


The Unreal City

by Pallanwen



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-17
Updated: 2011-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-24 17:25:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 33,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pallanwen/pseuds/Pallanwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the landing party gets lost in the fog of a hostile planet, Kirk and Spock are struggling to get back together in many respects. Contains sea-monsters, mythological allusions, a space version of Venice and epic angst - see for yourself.</p>
<p>Story is set mid-season 2 with references to Amok Time and Who mourns for Adonais.</p>
<p>(Contains a scene of dubious consent in chapter 3)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrival

The first thing they noticed was the fog. The cool tickle of the materialization process had just faded and they found themselves exposed on the planet’s surface, surrounded by a fog so thick you could almost cut it with a knife. It moistened their clothes, crept into every pore and seemed to transform every breath into an act of strenuous labor. Although the readings from on board of the _Enterprise_ had claimed, that as a class M planet, the atmosphere of Thalassus III was adequate for humanoid beings to breathe in, this certainly wasn’t the most comfortable place in the galaxy.

Anyway, it was too late to turn back now.

_What a pea soup!_ Mc Coy sighed and tried to catch a glimpse of the other members of the landing party. “Jim? Mr. Spock?”

“I am here, Doctor.” Seconds later the Vulcan’s tall frame appeared a few meters to the right. He was holding his tricorder and although you could never be sure with a Vulcan face, his expression appeared sterner than usual. “Have you seen the captain?” Spock asked, looking up from the tricorder.

“You mean he isn’t with you?” McCoy was confused. “He can’t be far away then – we should have materialized right next to each other. If it wasn’t for this damned fog…”

Spock shook his head. “My readings indicate no higher life form in a hundred meter radius.”

“What?”

“He is gone,” Spock said in a flat voice.

“How can that be? Why didn’t he beam down with us?” McCoy flicked out his own communicator. “Scotty? Where’s the captain? Is he still on the ship?”

There was no answer.

“What the hell?” He shook the communicator, pressed the button a second time and held the device against his ear. But again, there was no answer, no signal, not even static. “Mr. Spock? I think we’ve got a problem.”

The Vulcan’s frown didn’t change, but McCoy knew him long enough to judge from his quick movement as he pulled out his own comm that he was quite nervous.

“The communicator is dead as well Doctor. And as the probability of both our communicators malfunctioning is very low it must be either broken or something is preventing the signal from reaching us.” Spock looked up at the sky, which was as uniformly grey as their surroundings. “There must be something within the atmosphere interfering with the communicators,” he said. “A disturbance the instruments on the _Enterprise_ were unable to catch from orbit.”

McCoy had never heard of such a thing. But then, he was a doctor, not a meteorologist and…

Spock’s voice interrupted his complaints. “The fog is clearing.”

A slight breeze had come up and they watched as the grey billows dissolved to reveal slick black stones, strands of seaweed and a vast expanse of grayish-green water. Still the fog seemed to be lurking at the borders of their vision, waiting to reclaim its territory.

“The captain should be able to see us now, presuming that he is close by,” said Spock and turned to inspect the terrain as far as possible.

“If he _is_ around,” grumbled McCoy whose hopes sank by the minute. Landing parties _never_ got separated when they materialized; in all his years of Starfleet service he had never experienced a thing like that. _I can’t imagine him having wandered off on his own – not if it wasn’t for an emergency – or a very pretty girl_ , he thought and shook his head, _and there wasn’t time for either._

Nevertheless he decided to give it a try. “Jim!” he shouted on top of his lungs. “Jim? Are you there?”

There was no answer, only the silence of the fog and the soft murmur of the sea.

 

* * *

 

When the materialization process was over and James Kirk opened his eyes, he found himself alone in the middle of impenetrable fog. Also, his feet were wet. Wincing, he took a quick look around, his hand jumping instinctively to the handle of his phaser. But there was no recognizable threat, only the grey surface of the fog, swallowing everything except for a glimpse of dark water around Kirk’s feet, which had just started to soak through his boots, turning his feet to ice.

“Spock?” he asked “Bones?” But no one replied.

  
_What’s going on here?_   
  
Once again he called his friends’ names and once again there was no reaction. He shook his head, sighed and pulled out his communicator – which turned out to give no reaction either. Kirk cursed between clenched teeth and put the comm back into his pocket.    
  
_Seems like I’m in trouble_   
  
.

He looked down onto the surface of the water and took one careful step forward. The water wasn’t deep, not even reaching up to his knees and the ground appeared rather even, but nevertheless, he paid attention to his every step. The water might get deeper any minute, not to speak of sudden drifts, which could pull him off his feet or dangerous creatures, which… well, it was better not to think about it. He gripped his phaser tight as he set one foot in front of the other, his gaze fixed on the dark water, ready to jump back or fire at any second.

  
_I wonder what happened to Spock and Bones_ , he mused.  _They might be only a few meters away from me_ \-  _it’s impossible to tell with this hell of a fog!_   


_Spock_ … Kirk had hoped that this mission – a simple task at first glance: to re-establish contact with Thalassus III, a planet that had long been neglected by the Federation – that this mission might make things …easier between them.

Since their friendship had changed so profoundly after the _pon-farr_ and the subsequent events on Vulcan, it had been next to unbearable to be stuck on the _Enterprise_ , with next to no privacy. There had been no time to talk and to sort things out – to find out, what the hell they had been _doing_ that night after their reunion in sickbay. As every mission since then had morphed into yet another life-threatening adventure, in which he and Spock had to cooperate to save the lives of their crew - it was not surprising that after a few weeks Jim Kirk had found himself as a nervous wreck.

  
_And now he’s gone and I’m stuck within another mission gone wrong,_ Kirk sighed _, let’s hope_ _that this one at least doesn’t involve Klingons._   


It was difficult to keep track of the time, but after a while Kirk seemed to have arrived on some kind of tideland. Coming to a halt, he took another look around. This time he was lucky, the fog had cleared up a little.

From what he was able to discern, he was standing on a sandy beach, which stretched in a soft curve until it lost itself in the foggy distance. Behind the beach some dark structures loomed in the mist, maybe rocks, but it was difficult to recognize details. Kirk turned around and looked back the way he had come. The grey surface of the sea merged seamlessly into the grey sky, but now that the fog had lifted, Kirk was able see some shapes in the distance – very large shapes. He narrowed his eyes and tried to make out details, but the fog was still too thick for that. At any rate, there _was_ something out there about half a mile off the coast. A ship? An island? A city? He had no idea.

  
_Wait? What was that_ ? 

Kirk frowned and strained his eyes. There it was again! He was pretty sure now – there was a light, a blinking light on top of the large structure hovering in the fog. And now that he had seen it, he was able to discover more: One, two three, no… about a dozen tiny lights in the distance – whatever it was, this thing was  _huge_ ! 

He shrugged his shoulders and set out to walk along the beach into the general direction of the structure. Whatever it was, it contained lights and thus, probably objects made by sentient beings, who might be able to help him to get back to his ship – and back to his friends.

 

* * *

 

“Careful Mr. Spock, you’ll get your feet wet!”

“Thank you Doctor, but I have already noticed the water.”

McCoy sighed and rolled his eyes as he waded through the ankle-deep water. When all their shouting had been in vain, they had decided to walk, searching for signs of civilization any place that might have the technical means to repair the communicators. Moreover, Kirk must have the same idea and they might meet up somewhere on the way. “Although the probability is devastatingly low,” Spock had said “I estimate it about…” McCoy had cut him off before he could calculate a number – his hopes were low enough already, he could do well without any further Vulcan discouragement, thank you very much. Ever since then they had been walking in silence until they had reached the water.

“We should take another route, the water is getting deeper.”

“Damnit Spock, I can see that myself!” His nerves were raw and he wished they hadn’t started talking again – it was one thing to deal with this damned planet and the loss of his captain, but obnoxious Vulcan advice on top of that…

After they had left the water of the tideway, they were strolling along what McCoy had come to call the beach. The fog had cleared some more and they were now able to make out the sandy coastline and the surf, which was breaking against flat tideland.

They had decided to keep close to the shoreline to prevent getting lost, but after another ten minutes of walking, McCoy wasn’t so sure, if that had been a good idea. The landscape was changing: More and more rocks cluttered the beach and after a while, the sand was gone and they had to balance carefully on top of the uneven boulders. The water had gotten deeper and the surf was breaking noisily against the rocks, turning them wet and slippery. McCoy and Spock both had already tripped several times – even Vulcan reflexes appeared to be helpless against the treacherous surface of the stones. They uniforms were soaked and McCoy had a nasty cut on his left hand. After he had provided the wound with a makeshift bandage Spock was already hurrying him on. “We need to reach a settlement,” he said with an unusual sense of urgency in his voice. “Otherwise we’ll neither manage to mend the communicator nor will we ever find the Captain.”

And then, all of a sudden, Spock stopped abruptly, his head jerked to the sea as he stared into the fog. “Doctor McCoy, have you seen this?” He pointed to the right.

McCoy stood still and looked into the direction Spock indicated. There were rocks leading into the sea – a kind of causeway made up out of the same slippery black boulders as the coastline, vanishing into the fog after a few meters. He looked closer – and then he saw that the causeway didn’t lead into nothingness. There was something in the fog maybe half a mile from the shore – something huge… Wait, was that a light?

“What the hell is this thing?”

“The only logical conclusion is that we are facing a settlement, inhabited by sentient beings. The inhabitants of Thalassus III are humanoid, therefore we should describe the settlement as a city. Fascinating.”

“Are you sure? The readings we took on the _Enterprise_ didn’t show any settlements around here!”

“It is quite logical to build a city on an island within a bay. Various tactical and economical reasons speak in favor of such a location.”

“Oh never mind tactical locations, let’s go there!” McCoy took another look at the obscure shape in the fog. “If Jim has seen this, he will be heading there. At least that’s what I think he’d be doing.”

Spock didn’t wait for an answer, but made the first step onto the slippery causeway. _It is decided then_. McCoy followed without further ado.

It was easier than expected to walk on the dam – the surface of the structure must have once been intended for pedestrian use and was therefore surprisingly even. Thus they made good progress, but soon enough they found themselves surrounded by fog again, with neither the coast nor the phantom city from their position. McCoy wasn’t sure if he liked these circumstances.

Spock was walking next to him, but he hadn’t spoken since they had set foot on the causeway and McCoy recognized the small signs hinting at his discomfort. He was clearly thinking about the Captain – Vulcan stoicism or not, Spock cared as much for Jim as McCoy did, well, maybe even more.

McCoy wanted to say something encouraging, provide some words of comfort even if he knew that Spock would dismiss them as irredeemably human, but as soon as he opened his mouth, he saw a movement, out of the corner of his eye - there was something in the sea!

“Watch out,” he bellowed and pushed Spock out of the way. Just in time as a large black _thing_ roared out of the water and splashed onto the stony surface of the causeway. They heard a deep inhuman groan as the thing – a slimy dark-green tentacle, as thick as a human leg – retracted back into the tumultuous sea.

McCoy stared in horror at the gigantic creature, only partly visible between the foaming waves. He caught a glimpse of vast expanses of slick greenish skin, a mass of writhing tentacles and something resembling a large luminous orange eye – then the next wave broke and the thing was gone, with only a shadow below the surface hinting at its existence.

“Do you have any idea what that was?” Breathlessly, he turned towards Spock, whose face had gone visibly pale. The Vulcan’s fingers were clenched around his phaser, his whole body tense as he shook his head, his logic and encyclopedic knowledge failing him for once.

“We’d better hurry,” said McCoy, “before it attacks again!”

Spock nodded and quickened his pace, phaser still in hand. Just then, another tentacle crashed on the spot they’d just vacated, only an arm’s length from McCoy’s back. This time it came from the left.

“There are two of them! _Run_!” McCoy shouted and then they were both running for their lives. Neither of them paid any attention to the narrowness of the causeway or the slippery surface of the rocks when another tentacle clawed at them. 

McCoy’s breath was burning hot in his lungs, as he tried to increase his speed, red spots were dancing in front of his eyes and he was sure he’d trip any minute. Faster and faster he ran, his ears were filled with the rush of the waves, the whipping tentacles and the terrible groan from the monster’s mouth. (He wasn’t certain the thing even _had_ a mouth, but he was quite sure that even Spock had no time for scientific investigations now.)

“They are falling back,” shouted Spock, who had the sense of balance to look back while he was running. “We will outrun them if we increase our speed by ten percent!”

  
_Now that’s good to know_   
  
, McCoy thought sourly as he tried to wrest some last sparks of energy from his tired legs.

He had been distracted for seconds only, but that was enough. Stepping on a patch of seaweed, he saw his foot slip in slow-motion and felt the air rush below his body as he tumbled down and sprawled on the stony floor. He didn’t even find time to swear. Pain surged through his body and for a few seconds he blacked out.

When he regained consciousness his perception was blurred for a moment. The he realized that something was wrapped around his leg. Slimy and cold, it was grasping his ankle and _pulled_ , dragging him towards the water.

McCoy tried to hang on to the slippery rocks, but in vain. He felt the sharp edges chafe his skin as the creature pulled him across the causeway. _I don’t want to die like this!_ Once again he tried to grasp for a hold and this time he managed to get a firm grip of a cleft between two rocks. His fingers felt close to breaking and he was sure he wouldn’t be able to hold on for long and thus just postpone his watery death by a few moments.

Suddenly he heard the familiar sound of a phaser firing; saw the red beam – and watched it missing its target. The creature groaned again and his fingers were burning, he couldn’t bear it, he had to let go. McCoy felt the tentacle tearing at his ankle, felt his body sliding like a puppet across the rocks, there was the phaser again and something was _screaming_ – and then the pull on his leg was gone. He heard water splashing, once again this terrible scream – and Spock was there, taking hold of his arm, pulling him to his feet. He had almost forgotten about Vulcan strength, and that Spock’s hands were so warm – higher body temperature and all that.

Later, McCoy couldn’t remember how they’d gotten over the last part of the causeway. He had only a handful of clouded memories of fog, black tentacles and more fog, interrupted only by the red phaser beams slicing through the air. He must have been half-delirious; it was a miracle he had been able to move at all.

But one way or the other they had reached the end of the causeway. There had been stairs and somehow they had managed to climb them – on top, there had only been blackness.

When McCoy woke up, Spock’s face was the first thing he saw. _I could have imagined better sights to wake up to_ , he thought with a sigh. The Vulcan shifted aside – and McCoy caught a first glimpse of the city.

 

* * *

 

The bridge had been unexpected. And the city… the city was _really_ impressive. Still in the middle of the bridge Kirk stopped to take a good look.

There were towers rising out of the mist. Lots of towers. Also spectacular domes adorned with golden turrets and flying flags and below them the poles of a dozen ships – and the whole splendor seemed to float in the middle of the water. Only minutes ago it hadn’t been there. When Kirk had arrived at the foot of the bridge - an impossible collection of vast arches and towering columns right in the middle of the deserted beach - all he had been able to see at the end had been fog. But after he had been walking for half a minute or less, wind had come up, the fog had lifted – and he had discovered the city.

As he was crossing the bridge and the towers were drawing nearer, it became less of a dream vision and turned into a real place: an alien city on an alien (possibly hostile) planet, a situation he had encountered a dozen times or more. Kirk took out his phaser, checked its functions and set it to ‘stun’.

Stepping off the bridge he found himself on a small expanse of empty land between the end of the bridge and the first buildings of the city. _Good tactical planning._ _They’ll be able to spot enemies when they traverse this area and then take aim at them from the top of those towers_. The fog had returned –by now he had understood that it only lifted for minutes, at a time – and he couldn’t see a living soul – yet.

He could only hope that Spock and Bones would eventually discover the city as well. _I need to talk to Spock_. The Vulcan’s dark eyes wouldn’t leave his thoughts. _We need to sort things out before_ …

“Watch out!” Someone barged into him. All of a sudden, Kirk was surrounded by people – he winced, his hand jerked towards the phaser and he took a quick look around – only to relax, because no one was paying him any further attention.

Without realizing it he had entered a narrow street, which lost itself in the foggy twilight between two large buildings. Most of the newcomers wanted to enter here, too– which led to inevitable confusion. Kirk sighed, pressed against the wall on the left and tried to appear as unsuspicious as possible. All on his own in an alien city, it was better to watch and observe before taking action – no matter how much this contradicted his natural instincts.

He counted twenty people – apparently humanoid, with no outward alien traits. Most of them were dark-haired with pale skin and large dark eyes, but he couldn’t spot any deviations from the human template when it came to ears, hands or facial features. They were wearing colorful clothes with lots of frills and flowing red and green capes and were currently carrying large bundles of various goods. Kirk looked back towards the sea and once the fog cleared up again for a few seconds, he could spot a pole and superstructure of a tall sailing ship that had been secured not far away.

  
_Fascinating…_   
  
he thought and smiled when he could almost hear Spock’s voice in his head. Having decided that the ship’s crew didn’t pose a threat, he started his way into the city center.

Thus he drifted through the confusing maze of little streets and alleyways, crossing several bridges - the city was divided by a network of tiny canals – as he made his way through a colorful crowd of merchants, workmen and artisans, which populated the streets. Every time he saw somebody dressed in blue, he had to turn and felt that little pang of disappointment in his chest whenever he realized that it was not the man he was looking for.

Once he stopped and asked a group of boatmen, who were repairing their slender black vessel on the bank of a canal, after the city’s name. They stared at him and his unfamiliar clothes, but eventually one of them shrugged and said “La Città.” The other one raised an eyebrow and seemed to be about to speak, but he was cut off by the third man.

“We have work to do,” he said and his voice sounded gruff, confrontational. Kirk felt the familiar twitch in his knuckles, but he forced himself to calm down – a fight wouldn’t help him here.

“Alright gentlemen, I’m sorry for bothering you – have a nice day.” He withdrew and hurried along the next alleyway.

La Città – not very illuminating, but a name was better than nothing.

He trudged on and crossed another small square, followed by another bridge and another canal. La Cittá (he suspected it meant ‘The City’ – not the most original name) appeared far larger than he had initially expected. And still no sign of Spock or McCoy.

After yet another bridge and a walkway next to a canal, curving towards the left, Kirk reached what he assumed to be the heart of the city.

He stood still and took a look around. Yes, this had to be the center. The large marble-tiled square, the countless arches and columns, the goddamn _tower_ \- this place was definitively built to impress. It served its creators’ intentions well, Kirk had to stand and stare for more than a minute, before he was able to move on.

The square and its buildings were situated in a rectangle, which bordered the seashore – thus the whole structure was permeated by mist, engulfing the columns and spires, giving the scenery a surreal dreamy air. And yet… despite the omnipresent fog and the unfamiliar impressions, there was something that tickled a vague, memory, hidden deep inside Kirk’s head. _I know this place. I’ve seen it before…_

He made his way through another flock of locals, mumbling excuses, still holding out for his missing friends, until he was standing in the center of the square, facing the large grey-and-golden structure on the left. Next to it stood the white building, the one that looked a bit like an old-fashioned Terran wedding cake turned upside down and encrusted with a million white arches – as if a mad giant had torn out a dozen bridges and stuck them aimlessly into the building’s walls.

_Where have I seen this before?_

Kirk craned his neck and looked to the top of the tower, which loomed over the square. It was made out of reddish brick with a pointed roof, decorated with a white marble statue, apparently some kind of animal.

A tiger? A Vulcan desert-wolf? A lion? _I think it’s a lion, I’m sure it is…._

Suddenly the memory came back and he knew what this place reminded him of. _It’s Venice! This whole city looks like Venice, back on Earth! Except that it isn’t a museum, but a real city, with people living in it._

He took a closer look around. He had never been to Venice himself, but he had seen pictures and he knew that the open-air museum was a popular holiday destination (you had to book months in advance if you wanted to get hold of a ticket) – this city, however, didn’t look much like a holiday resort. Furthermore, there was something wrong with the architecture– the buildings didn’t look like they did on the postcards. To be exact, they didn’t look very much like they had been designed by humans at all, more like something, someone might have come up with, after they had been given only a vague description of what Venice looked like, without ever having visited the place itself.

Kirk knew enough about alien societies, to recognize Terran influence when he saw it. But _Thalassus is too far away!_ _They couldn’t have built this all on their own. Someone – someone from Earth – must have come here and provided them with the inspiration._

But who? This wasn’t the first time the Federation had contacted Thalassus III, but none of the reports from the previous three expeditions had mentioned any earth-like structures or Terran influences when it came to society and culture. However, all three contacts had occurred on the planet’s northern hemisphere – maybe the south had been exposed to Terran visitors decades ago, in the earlier days of space travel?

_That makes no sense; the planet is too far off the usual routes._ Kirk sighed and absentmindedly scratched his chin. _Where’s my science team when I need it?_

He spotted a bench in front of the white building with the arches and sat down, resting his feet. With a sigh he allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment. Then he checked his communicator for the umpteenth time, but still, no signal. Kirk shook his head, put the utensil back in his pocket and rubbed his temples. Suddenly he felt very tired. _I hope the ship is alright. If Spock and Bones haven’t come back as well, Scotty must have taken command by now – let’s hope he’ll find a way to solve the problem with the comms – hopefully very soon!_

Kirk shook his head and tried to quench the onset of despair. _I can’t allow myself to give in, sitting on this damned bench and pity myself – I have to find a way to get out of here!_ He was the captain for God’s sake. It was not like him to let the hopelessness of the situation defeat him.

So he did what he always did in these situations. He stopped thinking and took up action. The first step was to stand up – which was the easiest part. Next he had to find out who was in charge here.

Kirk straightened his back, took a look around and spotted a group of wealthy-looking men in fancy clothing, standing at the base of the huge tower, engaged in quiet conversation. _Merchants or politicians. Perfect_ , he thought as he approached the group.

“Good morning, gentlemen! My name is James Kirk and I have a few questions…”


	2. La Città

When the night fell, McCoy and Spock were still roaming the city’s alleyways, seeking for their captain with increasing despair.

McCoy had to move slowly, his whole body was aching. Only a shot from his remaining stock of hyposprays had made him fit to walk at all, after the attack of the sea-creature had left him with bruised rips and a strained ankle as well as chafed knees and elbows. He was more than grateful that he hadn’t suffered more serious injuries. “I hate this place” _,_ he murmured to himself as he followed Spock deeper into the maze of foggy streets.

The sun had set half an hour ago and only scattered gaslight and torches illuminated the city.  _I guess it’s only a matter of time until one of us falls into one of these damned canals – and that’s probably going to be me._ McCoy frowned and took even more care to move as far from the edge of the water as possible 

“Let us take this way, Doctor,” said Spock. “According to my estimations it should be the shortest route towards the city center.”

McCoy nodded and they turned into one of the wider streets. It didn’t follow a canal, a fact that McCoy was very glad about.

Since the creature’s attack and their subsequent arrival he had had two brief exchanges with Spock, the first one about the whereabouts of the captain and the second later on, when they had decided to find out more about the city. A fisherman told them that the city was called La Città and Spock had asked him if he had seen a man in a gold shirt, dressed in similar style as they were. “His name is James T. Kirk and he might be looking for us.”

The fisherman had shaken his head and went back to mending his nets. “I’m sorry, Signor, I haven’t seen this man. Maybe you should try around St. Mark’s – most foreigners go there.”

“So where can we find this St Mark’s?” McCoy had asked, getting impatient with the fisher’s slow talk and long pauses.

“Simply follow the grand canal – or, if you don’t have a boat, one of the bigger streets to the south – you won’t miss it.”

Afterwards they had pursued their search along the next alley leading vaguely in a southern direction.

‘The Grand Canal’, ‘St. Mark’s’ – La Città had apparently been constructed after the image of Terran Venice – although the alien nature of the city was still apparent at every corner.

“Do you think he’s really here?” McCoy asked Spock after they had discovered a sign reading ‘To St Mark’s Square’ and followed the direction it was pointing.

“Well, there is a certain chance.” Spock’s voice and facial expression were unreadable.

“Let’s just pray that he stayed away from the water and didn’t encounter one of these sea monsters…”

Spock had not answered, but quickened his pace and McCoy had observed how the Vulcan’s hand wandered towards the handle of his phaser.  _He’s far more worried about the captain than he’d ever be willing to admit. Oh Jim, I hope you haven’t done anything stupid!_

Now, half an hour later, they were walking along the narrow street in silence with tired legs and low hopes. McCoy didn’t like the expression on Spock’s face. He was sure that Spock was very unwell – that he was  _afraid_ – far more afraid than he should be in a situation like this. It was not the first occasion they had lost contact to the  _Enterprise_ , but it was certainly the first time that Spock had reacted like this.

_If I only knew what’s wrong with him. He hasn’t been the same ever since we returned from Vulcan_ .  _I’ve never seen him so… nervous._ Maybe there were some traces of the  _pon-farr_ experience that his mind had been unable to process? But the psychological checkup two weeks ago had shown nothing unusual. However, McCoy was a physician not a shrink and he had little experience with the Vulcan psyche – and Spock being a half-Vulcan didn’t make things easier. _It might be best to just ask him if he wants to tell me what’s wrong – as a friend, not a physician – as soon as we get out of here._

Thanks to the persisting fog, McCoy was barely able to see Spock’s back, although the Vulcan was walking only a few feet in front of him. The illuminated windows to the left and right and the gas-lamps on the walls appeared as floating will o’ the wisps, hovering freely in the misty air.

“Slow down, Mr. Spock! I don’t want you to get lost, too!”

The Vulcan obeyed and reduced his speed. When they arrived at another crossroad and found themselves in front of an intersection between four alleyways and two narrow canals, he stopped abruptly.

McCoy almost bumped into him. “Damnit Spock, can’t you…?”

The Vulcan shook his head and put a finger in front of his lips. “Silence!”

McCoy shut his mouth in an instant. “What is it?” he finally whispered.

“Look!” Spock pointed towards the intersection. “Do you notice anything?”

McCoy looked around. The location was illuminated by a handful of torches and a brighter gaslight on the southern end. Fog billowed in front of the high buildings with their steep staircases and narrow windows and a small catlike animal was licking its paws on the deserted porch of the house to the right. Except for the fog the scenery appeared peaceful; McCoy was unable to make out any potential threats.

“I can’t see anything unusual,” he said.

“That is precisely what I mean. Nobody is here,” said Spock. “All the inhabitants retreated into their houses fifteen minutes ago. We are the only humanoid beings still on the streets.”

McCoy took a quick look over his shoulders. But there was nothing except for the darkness of the deserted alley. “Do you have any idea why?” he asked.

The Vulcan shook his head. “There was no panic,” he said. “Otherwise we would have noticed it.” He took out the tricorder for a general reading. “Except for us and the inhabitants within the buildings I can see no larger life form within the standard radius. This is very strange.”

McCoy frowned. “It’s getting colder,” he said, hugging himself. “Maybe they all went inside because they didn’t like the weather? Or it’s just dinner time?”

Spock shrugged his shoulders. “I do not think so. It is very improbable that all humanoid beings should have dinner at the same time. Moreover, there is not a single beggar to be seen. Logic dictates that there must be another reason.”

“Some local rites maybe? Something religious? A political order?” McCoy thought about the Red Hour on Beta III and shivered.

Spock didn’t reply - McCoy hadn’t expected him to - and continued to fumble with the settings of his tricorder. McCoy sighed and took a few steps towards the front of the next row of houses. Except for the slight smell of the fog (a damp foul aroma reminding him of the swampier parts of Georgia) and the obvious fact that the place was devoid of humans there was still nothing extraordinary to be seen. He turned around to address Spock, who was already halfway hidden in the fog, and froze.

There was a shadow, right in the corner of his eye. It was moving. Moving very fast – McCoy jumped, grabbing his phaser – and it was gone.

He took a quick look around, but there was only the fog and the brownish brick-wall of the house behind him.  _Damn, I’m getting far too twitchy_ . He rubbed his forehead and put the phaser away.

“Spock, I think we should… _Spock_?!”

The Vulcan was gone.

“ _Spock_?”

No reply.  _What the hell? This is getting worse by the minute._ McCoy moved very slowly until he stood with his back to the wall, before he called out again – this time more softly.  _God knows what’s lurking within this pea-soup._

“Spock? Where are you?”

Still no answer. Cold sweat broke out on McCoy’s forehead.  _Oh crap! He’d never walk away on his own without telling me – something must have happened to him._

And then the shadows were moving again. McCoy span around, pointing his phaser, but once again there was only fog. He took a deep breath and tried to force down the panic, which was starting to rise in his throat.  _I must stay calm, I can’t risk to lose it, I have to find the others. Damnit Leonard, this is just fog, not the end of the world!_

His fingers clenched around the hilt of his phaser as he took two very careful steps to the left, his back constantly to the wall as he scanned the wafts of mist in front of him. Nothing… But wait, what was that? He narrowed his eyes and stared at the spot right next to the entrance of the large grayish building, which dominated the northern side of the square. There, right below the flickering torch – something was moving.

McCoy held his breath and raised his phaser. Whatever it was – right now it appeared as a floating, amorphous conglomeration of shadows – it was growing fast. Very fast.

 _Oh shit…_

It was the sea-creature all over again. The thing was sitting in the middle of the square, water dripping from its pitch-black scaly flanks. It was  _huge_ , with a mass of tentacles around its head, glowing orange eyes and a enormous barrel-like body, supported by four short, trunk-like limbs – on which it moved forward with surprising speed.

_I have to run!_ McCoy struggled to overcome the icy fear that paralyzed his body and made him stand and stare like a deer in the headlights. The sea-creature roared and then the world was full of whipping black tentacles and the stench was unbearable. One tentacle scourged the air right in front of McCoy’s face; he could feel the cold blast of air, while drops of stinky water flew from the creature’s slimy skin and moistened his face. That was enough. His paralysis broke and he managed to turn on the spot and  _run_ , he didn’t even realize that he dropped his phaser, as he dashed towards the next alleyway, away, just away from this place, from the creature and its swarming tentacle-face.

McCoy didn’t pay attention to where he was running as he was sprinting along the street, across a bridge into another fog-filled alleyway. His breath was burning and his sides hurt like hell, but he couldn’t stop, he had to get away from this cosmic horror, taken straight from his worst nightmares. His ankle had started hurting again and he was sure that his ribs were complaining as well, but the fear numbed his body and his mind, there was nothing to do but  _run._

Something – no,  _someone_ – was crossing the road. McCoy saw him too late, couldn’t slow down in time and crashed right into the other person.

Pain was soaring through his body, but at least he didn’t black out this time. As he sat up again, his head, his leg, damn, _everything_ , was hurting, but as he threw a hectic look across his shoulder, the monster had vanished. Only then he turned around - and stared in disbelief at the man he just brought to the ground.

“ _Spock_?”

The Vulcan mumbled something inarticulate and rubbed his temples. A large greenish bruise was forming on his right cheekbone.  _That’s where I must have hit him with my head,_ McCoy thought _, damn, he has a skull as hard as a rock, judging from the headache he gave me!_ Spock finally looked up, his dark eyes were clouded and his voice sounded strange as he spoke.

“Doctor McCoy? Is that you?”

“Of course it’s me. What did you expect? Santa Clause? Or perhaps a Romulan Starship commander?”

“I… I think I saw the Captain.” Spock’s voice still didn’t sound right and there was an eerie expression in his eyes that McCoy had never seen before. _He’s looking right through me – as if he’s dreaming._ Only then did he realize the content of Spock’s words.

“The Captain? You saw Jim? Where is he?”

“I do not know,” Spock answered. “He was… there, right in front of me. He smiled and then… he… he simply disappeared.”

McCoy’s eyes went wide. “He just…  _smiled_ ? He didn’t talk to you or tell you where the hell he has been?”

“He was… there. I saw him.” Spock’s voice still had this far away sound.

By now McCoy had recovered enough for his medical common sense to set in. “Wait a second,” he said and lifted his hand to the Vulcan’s head. “I think I have to check you for concussion first, before we talk about the Captain. This sounds to me like you’re hallucinating.”

Nevertheless he took a look around first, but neither Jim nor the sea-monster seemed inclined to pay them a visit. His impromptu examination showed no sign of concussion. Except for the bruise on his face and some scrapes on the heels of his hands, where he had supported himself when he fell down, Spock had suffered no injuries. Still his pupils were larger than usual and his gaze was clouded.

“Can you see me?” McCoy asked and waved his hand in front of the Vulcan’s face.

“Of course I can,” said Spock and sighed. “Doctor, I do not think anything is wrong with me. We have to look for the Captain.”

Spock freed himself from McCoy’s grip and stood up. He looked around for a moment, but then he hesitated, massaging his temples.

“Spock?”

The Vulcan shook his head and then rubbed his eyes. “I was so certain I saw him,” he muttered under his breath, “but it seems that I cannot trust my eyes.”

When he turned to face McCoy, his eyes were clear and the strange dilation of his pupils was gone. “I must be experiencing hallucinations,” he said. “Tell me, Doctor, did you witness something out of the ordinary as well?”

McCoy thought of the sea-creature.  _It felt so real. And it smelt very real, too. Damn, that thing even dripped its jizz on me – I don’t think hallucinations are capable of that._ “Well, there was this creature from the water again,” he said slowly. “But it didn’t feel very hallucinatory to me.”

“Neither did the appearance of the Captain,” said Spock, “but I am certain it was not him. It is illogical for him to appear and subsequently disappear without an explanation or indeed, any attempt to… to talk to me.”

“This place is getting stranger by the second,” said McCoy and sighed. “What do you think we’re supposed to do next? Heading to the city center in the hope of finding Jim there?”

“I cannot think of an alternative,” said Spock. “Let us go.”

 

* * *

 

“Excuse me, Signor Kirk, where did you say you were from?”

_Careful_ … The Federation had only contacted the northern hemisphere, in the south it was certainly safer to stick to the Prime Directive for once.

“From… the north,” Kirk answered. “I have traveled with my friends and lost them. None of us has ever been to the south before.” He had no idea if the merchant, who had introduced himself as Luca Vivarini, believed him.

“So your home is very far away,” Vivarini said slowly. “I see. Well, I hope you’ll have a pleasant sojourn in La Città, Signor. I doubt that you have ever seen a city like her before.”

Kirk shook his head. “It is very impressive,” he said. “I admire your people’s imagination. How did you manage to build a city on water?”

Venier, the other merchant, shrugged. “La Città didn’t always look like this,” he said. “Although we have always lived near the water and built our houses and palaces on the islands in the bay. All these buildings you see around here, however, were only erected when the Liberator arrived.”

“The Liberator?”

Venier’s eyes went wide in surprise. “ _Eleutherios._ Don’t tell me you haven’t heard of him?”

Kirk presumed this meant this ‘Liberator’ ruled the city. It wasn’t the first time he had heard of a strange entity controlling an alien planet. And he couldn’t help it; he had to think of the cult of Vaal on Gamma Trianguli VI and of Landru, the computer-turned-dictator they had encountered on Beta III.

Therefore he felt he was treading familiar ground when he replied. “I have never heard of the Liberator, but I’d like to know more about him. Is he in charge of the city?”

“It depends,” said Vivarini, the merchant who had spoken first. “ _He_ certainly thinks he is, but he cannot do much without the consent of the Signoria, the people’s representatives. La Città is a republic, as you must know.”

_Now this is interesting_ …  _I just wish I knew more about ancient Venice. And I wonder how they got to adapt these structures – maybe this ‘Liberator’ has come from Earth?_ Kirk needed more information, so he opted for the way that had always worked best for him – the direct approach, speaking with the nearest person in charge. “Is it possible to speak to the Liberator? Does he receive visitors by any chance?”

“You must come from _very_ far away,” said Vivarini and chuckled. “No, the Liberator does not receive visitors. Of course not. Were you really thinking everybody could just walk up to him and bother him with his concerns?” He shook his head, still laughing. “You have to wait for months before you are received in front of the Signoria and if you really want to see the Liberator within the Palazzo Ducale – well: it’s impossible if you haven’t been born in La Città, the Liberator receives only proper citizens.”

_Well, thank you Mr. Vivarini, that’s just what I wanted to hear_ . Kirk could hardly suppress a smile.  _The Palazzo Ducale then._ _I’m sure once I find this palace, I can think of a way to get inside._ “Well, I’d like to see this Palazzo at least from the outside,” Kirk continued. “Is that possible? And can you tell me how to get there?”

Vivarini shook his head and smiled. “It’s right over there!” He pointed towards the large white building on the left. “How could you not know that? I think you…” He wanted to continue, but his colleague, Venier, interrupted him. “We have to go,” he said and cast a short glance towards the sky. “It’s about time!” Vivarini followed his gaze and nodded quickly. “I completely forgot about the time _,_ Il Vento is already approaching. Excuse us, Signor Kirk!”

They both raised their hats and bowed, and before Kirk was able to reply they had already hurried away.

_What the hell was that about?_ He shook his head and was just about to seek out another passerby for an interview when he noticed that the square was emptying rapidly. Everyone was hurrying towards the smaller streets, how strange.

“Excuse me, what’s going on here?”

One of the passersby quickly looked over his shoulder. “Hurry up, Signor!” he shouted. “The Wind is drawing near!”

_The Wind? What wind?_ Now that he was thinking about it, Kirk could feel a chilly draft that hadn’t been there before, but this was neither what he’d call a proper wind, nor did it appear to be in any way threatening. On the contrary, now that the sun was about to set, the fog had lifted and the air appeared fresher and less humid. Kirk couldn’t make out poisonous smells and he remembered clearly that the readings from the  _Enterprise_ hadn’t shown any hazardous ingredients in the planet’s atmosphere - although he dearly wished for Spock with his tricorder for additional tests.

_Let’s hope that this is just local superstition and I won’t drop dead for staying outside._ However, as he now found himself in the middle of the almost-deserted square, he did feel rather uncomfortable and decided to head for the shelter of the near alleyways.  _Maybe I’ll find a way to approach the palace from behind? I should try it now, as everybody seems far too busy running away._

Nevertheless he grabbed his phaser and took a careful look around. Still, there was nothing unusual to be seen. He followed a small cobbled street, which lead into the general direction of the Palazzo’s rear, all the time casting wary glances to the left and right.

As the wind increased the breeze became definitively too chilly for Kirk’s comfort, despite the temperature-regulating material of his uniform. He grimaced and quickened his pace in the vain hope of warming up. Fortunately, the temperature stopped dropping again after a moment and the wind remained at the level of minor annoyance. Kirk walked on, carefully scanning the buildings on his right side for a way that might lead him inside the Palazzo. No luck so far, the residential houses and storefronts didn’t look very promising.

He heard a noise behind him, flinched and spun around in an instant, aiming his phaser.

“Who’s there?”

But there was nothing but the empty alleyway. Kirk shook his head, rubbed his eyes with his left hand, but didn’t lower the phaser. Then he looked again – still, nothing. However, there was a strange smell in the air, something he hadn’t noticed before. It was very faint, but distinctively  _there_ , a scent reminiscent of swampy marshland and decaying vegetation. Kirk shrugged and walked on – but there was that noise again. It sounded like footsteps. As he turned around, he saw someone standing in the middle of the street – a tall, dark-haired figure with pale greenish skin and pointed ears – Spock!

Somewhere, deep in Kirk’s chest, something was aching. Then a wave of relief washed through him and he could help but smile.

“Spock! Where on earth have you been? And where is Bones, is he…”

As soon as he spoke the words he felt another gust of wind – and then, in the blink of an eye, Spock was gone.

“Spock!”

No answer. Kirk frantically turned his head, looked around, but the street was as empty as it had been moments ago.

_I must have imagined him, he can’t have been here_ . He sighed and rubbed his eyes. This wasn’t good. Actually this was very bad and bode ill for his psychological condition.  _I have to talk to him – I can’t avoid it any longer. As soon as I find him and Bones and we get back to the ship._ The ship… He pulled out the communicator and checked it once again for signals, but it was still dead, a mute piece of metal and plastic. The sight of the useless object didn’t help to improve his mood. The comm was the only thing connecting him to his ship, to his life. Without the  _Enterprise_ he was completely on his own.

He had never liked to be alone.

_Oh damn, stop it! This leads to nowhere._ He shook his head and tried to concentrate on the matter at hand – in this case an empty alleyway, which was, once again, slowly filling with fog.

And then Spock appeared again, out of nowhere.

Kirk stopped abruptly and stared. The Vulcan was standing at arm’s length in front of him, Kirk could discern every detail in his face, the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the curve of his lips, the dark glint of his eyes – he only needed to stretch out his hand to…

Spock was gone.

 _Well, that’s it, I’m losing my mind._

He closed his eyes for a second and when he opened them, Spock was still nowhere to be seen.  _It’s bothering me more than I thought. I have to_ do _something!_

Of course, there was the tiny problem that before he’d have any chance to talk to Spock and ease up things between the two of them, he had to find him and Bones first, had to re-establish contact to the  _Enterprise_ and get the transporter working again. Therefore, he had to find the so-called Liberator or whoever was in charge of this planet first, and then he had to hope that his plan (if you could call it a plan at all) worked out.

When Kirk finally gained sight of the Palazzo Ducale’s marble walls, the fog was fully back and the strange smell had vanished.

 

* * *

 

Paradoxically, the streets were full of people once it had gotten foggy again. Even though the sun had long set, the alleys and small squares were bustling with life. Meanwhile McCoy and Spock had come to the conclusion that it was time to inquire about more information and thus, when they came across the next tavern, they decided that it might be better to ask around here first, before they continued to St Mark’s.

“Mr. Spock? Don’t you think you should do something about your… erm.. ears before we enter there?”

So far their few contacts with the locals hadn’t lasted long enough for anyone to notice the Vulcan’s more prominent features. Spock cast him a long glance, which probably meant “I really hate you” in an understated Vulcan way.

McCoy shrugged. “It’s not me, who’ll get strange looks,” he said and went straight ahead into the tavern. Spock said nothing, but McCoy watched him tear away a stripe of fabric from his uniform tunic, using it as an impromptu headband to conceal his ears and eyebrows.

The inside of tavern didn’t differ from all the other bars McCoy had visited on various planets around the galaxy: Dark, smoky and stuffed with people while the smell of cheap alcohol penetrated the air.  _I doubt they’re selling any decent bourbon here…_

No one was paying them much attention when they entered the venue and quietly made their way to a vacant table in the corner room.

“So what now? Do you happen to have any money?” McCoy asked Spock after they had been sitting for a while.

The Vulcan shook his head “I doubt they will credit sticks,” he said. “We will have to remain sober and content ourselves with silent observation.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” McCoy snarled as he cast a jealous glance at the glasses that were just being served at the neighbor table – their content looked close enough to whisky to make him regret his lack of local currency. “There I was, thinking we could have a drink and talk to the locals. For what other reason did we come into this damned tavern?”

“I do not feel the need for alcoholic intoxication you seem to experience.” Spock raised an eyebrow in a way McCoy had come to interpret as the equivalent of a smug smile.

McCoy didn’t reply but he gave Spock an angry look before he focused once again on the happenings in the room.

People were sitting around the little tables and talking, some more quietly and some less. A few were standing in front of the bar, drinking a strange greenish beverage that was served in tall, heavily decorated glasses. McCoy sighed.  _If we stay longer than this night, we have to come up with something to solve our money problems – I don’t want to starve or, worse, being forced to eat sliced sea-monster._

A man at the table to their left seemed to have noticed his longing looks and bent over towards him. “You look thirsty, my friend.”

McCoy forced himself to smile as he frantically searched his brain for a plausible back-story.  _We can’t arouse too much attention, Prime Directive and everything_ … 

He set for a frustrated sigh. “My friend and I just arrived,” he said “and apparently we behaved extraordinarily stupid, as we managed to get mugged on our very first day in La Città.”

Considering the ragged state of their uniforms, this didn’t sound too far-fetched – at least he hoped so. The man on the neighbor table nodded with what appeared to be genuine concern. As far as McCoy could say, he was pretty drunk already.

“You have to stay away from the alleyways in the east end,” he said. His voice was slurred. “They’re a cruel lot over there, robbing you before you’re able to say your name.”

“Yes, I guess we’ve realized our errors by now.” McCoy gave Spock, who had paid close attention to their conversation, a wink. “My friend here has told me so a dozen times already.”

Spock understood and answered with a solemn nod. “He is right. We have learnt from our mistakes and are eager to continue our explorations in the more refined parts of the city.”

“I’m so sorry,” the drunk man said. “You really must be out of luck!”

 _Yeah, you don’t say…!_

“This really isn’t how we’ve imagined our first day in the city,” McCoy said. He looked the man over as inconspicuously as possible. He was in his late twenties or early thirties with a handsome pale face and unruly dark hair, with a pathetic little beard on the tip of his chin. His clothes were of good quality and he didn’t seem like the usual type of drunkard you encounter in a seedy bar.

“My name’s Guido Bellini, by the way,” the man said when he noticed McCoy’s inquiring look. “And I think it’s time for me to buy you and your friend a drink.”

_Now that’s what I’d call progress_ . McCoy smiled - this time it was genuine - and held out his hand. “I’m Leonard McCoy and this is my friend Spock. Thank you very much for your offer.”

“No trouble at all.” Bellini had already called the waitress “What’s your poison my friends?”

Ten minutes later McCoy was happily drinking something Bellini had called  _l’acqua fuoco_ , but which tasted enough like whiskey for his mood to improve a lot. Spock was holding a glass of water, despite Bellini’s apparent disbelief. “I’ve never seen a man who was not drinking,” he had said – and McCoy had kindly refrained from telling him that Spock was not exactly what you could call human… Well, if you looked at it closely the people in La Città weren’t either, but they clearly were neither Vulcan nor did they know about the planet’s existence –it was certainly safer not to mention alien races at all. There were other subjects, though, and more interesting ones.

The city was ruled by a kind of senate, called the Signoria, consisting of representatives of the city’s leading families, together with a man known as Eleutherios or the Liberator, who seemed to hold the executive authority. The main industries were fishing and trade – La Città maintained commercial relations to a number of other cities, all situated on the coast of the ocean known as the Grey Sea. Everything bore a striking resemblance to Terran Venice.

“I would like to receive further information about the Liberator,” said Spock, who had been silent for a while. “What is his exact…” he got interrupted when a drunk patron stumbled between their tables and roughly hit Bellini on the shoulder.

“He, Guido Bellini! Found some nice little friends, who fit your rat-infested hole of a family home?”

Bellini jumped to his feet, anger blazing in his eyes.

“Stop it, Vivarini,” he hissed, although, due to extensive drunken swaying, his threatening pose turned out rather ineffectual. It was still enough. Vivarini cursed and tried to punch him in the face. Bellini dodged the blow, shifted into a better position and hit back. His punch hit the other man, who had not been paying enough attention, straight in the stomach. Vivarini grunted, swore again and leapt for Bellini – they were in the middle of a brutal fistfight, before McCoy or Spock could do anything to stop him.

McCoy looked at the Vulcan. “Shouldn’t we  _do_ something?” he whispered.

Spock shook his head. “I think it is better if we do not interfere. The other patrons are watching as well and we are supposed to remain inconspicuous.”

Meanwhile the fight had risen to new heights and two others men had joined in. No one was paying attention to the strangers in the blue uniforms. From what McCoy could make out from the other patrons’ shouts and cheers, the brawl seemed to be part of a family feud. There were quite a few Vivarini and Bellini present, who had started to support the contestants – verbally and physically.

Fists were flying, drunken men were shouting and McCoy cringed at the sound of the hard punches, images of fractured bones, hematoma and strained and swollen joints too clearly in front of his inner eye. He groaned as he saw one of the Vivarini throwing a pottery mug against Guido Bellini’s head. The young man froze, his eyes rolled upward and he fell down unconsciously.  _If that’s not a concussion – or worse – my name’s not Leonard McCoy!_

The fight stopped immediately.  _Thank God! Someone might have stepped on him_ ! A girl made her way through the crowd, shouting obscenities as she pushed men out of her way.

“Jacopo Vivarini, you bastard! What have you done to my brother?” She knelt down next to the unconscious man, shook her head and looked up, her eyes wide in terror. “He’s not moving. And he’s _bleeding_! We need a doctor, is there a doctor here?”

_I think that’s my cue_ . McCoy had already risen from his seat and was halfway through the room. Before the girl had time to ask a second time, he had sat down next to the injured Bellini and was feeling his pulse.

“He’s not dead, Miss,” he said to the girl, who was still horrified and attempted to push him away from her brother’s body. “My name’s McCoy and I’m a doctor, don’t worry, you’re brother’s going to be alright.”

At least he hoped so. But Bellini’s pulse and breath were normal. From what he could tell right now it might be nothing more serious than a concussion – but he could never be too careful. McCoy fumbled in his bag for his scanner and a hypospray when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around and saw Spock who was quietly shaking his head.  _Oh yeah, the Prime Directive, too many people looking on, I can’t use my things here, damn!_

He turned towards the girl. “I don’t think your brother is too badly hurt, but I’m unable to check up on him properly in here. Is there some quieter place we can bring him?”

The girl nodded. “We live nearby, if we can carry him to our house without him getting any worse?”

“I’m sure we can manage that.” McCoy turned around “Spock? We need your help!”

The throng of onlookers was slowly dissolving. The man who had thrown the mug mumbled a half-hearted apology before edging away. The girl ignored him – apparently this was not the first time her brother had gotten into a fight with the Vivarini. Within a few minutes almost all of the former onlookers had returned to their tables and after a short discussion with some of the other Bellinis McCoy and Spock were left alone with the girl and her brother, who just in this moment opened his eyes.

“What… what happened?” he managed to mumble, before he moaned in pain and tried to raise a hand to his temple.

“Don’t move,” said McCoy and took the chance to check Bellini’s eyes – his pupils were of equal size, reflexes and sensitivity to light appeared normal – that was a good sign. “How do you feel?” he asked his patient “Any signs of dizziness, feeling sick?”

“I don’t think so,” Bellini said weakly. “It’s just that my head _really_ hurts!”

“Do you think you can get up?” When Bellini attempted to move, McCoy watched him closely – he dearly wished to be able to use his instruments. He sighed and came to a decision. “If you feel like you are able to get up, try it – but _slowly_! I think we can risk to take you to your home without a stretcher.”

Even though Bellini managed to get on his feet eventually, McCoy and Spock supported him from both sides, when they left the tavern.

“It’s just two streets away from here,” Bellini said, his voice still rather slurred. His sister nodded. “Don’t worry, we’re almost there.” She hesitated and then offered McCoy a shy smile “By the way, my name is Julia Bellini” she said. “As you might have noticed, I’m Guido’s sister.”

“Nice to meet you,” said McCoy. “As I think I’ve already said, I’m Leonard McCoy, and this here is Mr. Spock. I’m sure we’ll fix your brother up in no time.”

* * *

\- to be continued -


	3. Baccanalia

Sneaking into the Liberator’s palace was easier than expected. It just took a neglected door, two inattentive guards, a minor distraction and a few well-aimed kicks and Kirk was standing inside the palazzo.

There were none of the playful ornaments inside which had covered the façade of the palace, but plain whitewashed walls sparsely decorated with tall columns. Moreover, the two rooms Kirk had crossed so far had been devoid of furniture and people.  _Very strange – looks as if these parts of the palace have never been finished._

Carefully, Kirk advanced into the next room. This one looked different. For one thing, it was definitively lived in, as it had been equipped with plenty of furniture and a table in a corner featured a bottle of wine and several empty glasses. Moreover, the walls had been painted: Large figures in black, a dramatic hunting scene with riders and feline predators. Next to the paintings a statue of a large bull was positioned in the center of the room – to Kirk all these works looked suspiciously Terran. Yes, this was the style of the ancient Greeks, back on Earth. He shivered – after the events on Pollux IV, these pictures evoked bad memories.

Frowning, he headed on. Then he stopped dead on the doorstep – there was a forest in the neighboring room. Rubbing his eyes Kirk looked again – still, the room before him was filled with greenery. Eventually he recognized that it was not an actual forest, but a gigantic ensemble of potted plants, which someone had arranged around wooden columns, fashioned into the form of tall leafless trees.  _Curiouser and curiouser,_ Kirk thought as he traversed the ‘forest’.  _And where is everybody? The city was full of people and there were guards outside – so why is the palace empty_ ?

He was close to the door of the forest-chamber when he heard the music. It was faint, but clearly recognizable as the muffled sound of pipes and drums. He wasn’t sure whether he should be glad about this sign of life – the frantic beat of the drums was unnerving and there was still nobody in sight.

The next door was halfway hidden under tendrils of vine and ivy. Heavy grapes hung from the branches and Kirk noticed that he hadn’t eaten anything since he had left the ship in the early afternoon. But even though he was tempted to pick some grapes he knew better than to eat strange fruit on an alien planet. With a sigh and a last longing look he pushed the vines away and went through the door.

The adjoining room was heavily decorated with gold and blue mosaics and right in the middle of it was a huge throne.

“I am surprised it took you so long.”

Kirk turned around, but there was no one to be seen. Once he faced the room again, there he was, a dark-haired man, standing right in front of him with a smug smile on his lips.

“Who are you?” asked Kirk.

The stranger smiled again – his eyes were not dark, as it seemed common with the Thalassians, but of a disturbingly bright golden color. His tanned skin was only partly covered by a light silken tunic and he wore a cloak made from what appeared to be leopard skin wrapped around his shoulders. “Don’t tell me you don’t know me already,” he said. “I am the one you have come to see. I am the Liberator.”

“The Liberator,” Kirk repeated slowly. Although he was hardly surprised, he had a strange feeling about this encounter; the other man’s smile didn’t bode well.

“Eleutherios – the Liberator, that’s one of my names. The people here seem to like it, even though I have never liberated them from anything.”

He had come closer and was now standing at arm’s length from Kirk. His strange golden eyes were sparkling, the situation seemed to amuse him immensely. Angry irritation rose in Kirk’s throat, but he forced himself to stay calm.  _Let him talk, don’t say anything. The more information he gives me willingly, the better!_

“Eleutherios?” he finally asked, “I have never heard of that name.”

“It is one among many,” the Liberator said. “Back in the old days they also called me Bromios – the thunderer, and Dendrites – him of the trees. I am also Lyaeus – he who unties and Oeneus – he of the wine press.”

All those strange names – and the wall paintings in the previous rooms - suddenly Kirk had a terrible idea where this was going.

“I am the son of Zeus and Demeter,” the Liberator continued. “I am the giver of unmixed wine, the goat killer who was twice born by two mothers. I am Bacchus Adonaeus, the god of wine and song. I have many names, but there is one most mortals knew me under – I am Dionysus!”

 

* * *

 

McCoy ordered Guido to sit down as soon as they had arrived at the Bellinis’ house.

“But I’m fine. I’ve been able to walk.”

“Of course. But I won’t let you run around this place until I’ve checked up on you properly, so hold still until I’m done!”

Fortunately, Guido Bellini was a sensible young man and kept perfectly still, as McCoy rummaged in his bag for a scanner.

“What is this?” Bellini asked when McCoy switched on the scanner and moved it across his patient’s forehead and temples.

“It helps me find out whether your brain is injured.”

Bellini frowned. “I have never seen a thing like this”

“Well…” _Oh, to hell with the Prime Directive!_ Nevertheless, he searched his head for an explanation. “It’s… um… a device we’ve invented in the north, I’m sure most people in La Città haven’t heard of it.”

Thankfully Bellini didn’t inquire any further and McCoy was able to finish his scan. “Good news,” he said when he was done. “No fractures, no brain damage, not even a concussion. After a day’s rest you should be as good as new.”

McCoy was quite glad that he didn’t have to use the hyposprays, which would only have led to further awkward questions. “He’s fine,” he said into Spock’s direction, who was sitting at the table, quietly talking to Bellini’s sister.

The Vulcan nodded in approval. “Very good. While you have been tending your patient I have been talking to Miss Bellini. She provided me with in-depth information about the city – and offered us dinner.”

“Now that’s good news for a change,” McCoy smiled as he joined them at the table.

After a simple meal of bread, fish and some kind of salad, which proceeded without much talk, they pushed back their plates and braced themselves for the inevitable questions. But they were lucky as the Bellinis accepted their improvised explanation, which was still nothing more elaborate than: “We are travelers from the northern hemisphere (“from a city known as La Terra,” as Spock remarked in an unexpected bout of creativity) and got lost in the fog upon arrival. We also lost track of our friend”

“We were attacked by a creature in the sea when we tried to cross the bridge towards La Città,” McCoy added to distract further from the question about their origin.

“Oh, that must have been a maenad,” Julia Bellini said. “They are guarding the waters around the city and sometimes they get a bit … agitated.”

“ _Agitated_? The thing dragged me across the rocks and was inches away from drowning me!”

Julia shook her head. “I’ve never heard of a maenad killing a man. It would have let go of you after it dragged you away from the city gates.”

“Well, I’m quite glad I haven’t had a chance to test that!”

“Doctor McCoy?” This was Spock’s calm voice. “Speaking of the creature’s attack on you – have you taken the time to tend your own injuries?”

“They’re not injuries, just scratches.” But despite his words, McCoy’s ribs and his strained ankle were still hurting, especially now that he was once again paying attention.

“Nevertheless, you should attend to them,” Spock said firmly. “It is illogical to ignore wounds, which might render you incapacitated in case of an emergency.” This meant ‘I’m worried about you’ in Spock-speak.

“Alright, alright, I’ll see what I can do.” Under Spock’s scrutinizing gaze, McCoy set down to work. Only after his ankle was bandaged, the bruises on his ribs checked, and an antiseptic had been applied to the abrasions on his hands and knees, the Vulcan left him in peace.

“It’s late already,” Guido Bellini said eventually. “My sister and will be going to sleep any minute. We owe you at least a bed for the night, so we’ll prepare beds in the spare room for you.”

They hurried away while McCoy cleared away his medical supplies. Spock was standing in a corner, hands folded behind his back, deeply lost in thoughts.

He didn’t say a word until the Bellinis were off to bed and he and McCoy settled on their improvised beds in a tiny room between the kitchen and living room. While McCoy yawned and tried to make himself comfortable between the thin woolen blanket and the straw mattress, the Vulcan was lying straight on his back staring towards the ceiling without motion. Finally, after McCoy had blown out the candle, he spoke under the cover of darkness.

“Do you think the captain is still alive?” His voice was muffled, strange.

_Oh my god, he really_ _ is _ _afraid!_ McCoy tried to sound as reassuring as possible when he answered. “I’m sure he is. You know Jim, he’s a suvivor. I’m sure he’ll show up tomorrow just fine!”

There was no reply from Spock’s side. McCoy waited and when the Vulcan didn’t speak up again for several minutes, he slowly relaxed, overwhelmed by tiredness – it had been an exhausting day and he wasn’t getting any younger. Just when he was drifting off to sleep, he heard Spock’s voice again.

“Leonard…”

He  _never_ called him Leonard. In an instant McCoy was completely awake. “What’s the matter, Spock, what’s wrong?”

The Vulcan’s voice was barely audible. “I have to ask you something.”

“Yes?” McCoy kept his voice as soft as possible. Spock was not himself, and he had no idea where this was leading. 

“After the … events on Vulcan, did you notice any changes in… any changes concerning me and the captain?”

_So he’s still not over it. The pon-farr is haunting him and now he’s feeling guilty, because we lost Jim._ “Spock, you don’t have to…”

“ _Please._ Tell me – did you notice anything? Concerning my behavior? Or… the captain’s behavior?”

This was strange. But it might be just Spock’s way of coping in the way he could best, by scientific analysis.

“Well, according to my observations, you and the Captain seem to get along as well as you did before. You know Jim as well as I do and I’m sure that you’ve realized that there are no bad feelings on his part. We all know that nothing of what has happened was your fault.”

Spock was silent again, but now McCoy’s interest had been peaked. Replaying the last two months in his head, he tried to focus on what had been going on between Spock and Kirk. For example, after the first euphoric moments of their post- _pon farr_ reunion there had been a strange disenchantment. During the first few days when the  _Enterprise_ and her crew performed their task at Altair VI, the two men had been avoiding each other, only talking when necessary. And still, McCoy had caught them exchanging strange glances across the bridge. Back then had blamed it all on the emotional strain they had suffered. And soon enough, things had returned to normal as the captain and his first officer resumed their friendship as if the  _pon-farr_ and the  _kal-if-fee_ had never happened.

But now that he was thinking about it, McCoy noticed subtle changes. Jim had seemed more... affectionate towards Spock (the captain had always been someone who liked to touch, but now it seemed that he had barely left out a chance to put his hand on Spock’s arm or shoulder), while the Vulcan had become even more remote and taciturn towards everybody, with the exception of Jim.

 _Something has drawn them closer together, something that must have happened during the ritual or afterwards. And whatever it is, Spock is mortally embarrassed that anyone might notice._

“Spock?” he whispered “You really don’t need to worry, everything is alright, I...”

But there was no answer, only soft snoring – the Vulcan was fast asleep.

 

* * *

 

“So you really are Dionysus? The Greek god Dionysus?” Kirk was still very skeptical.

They were sitting in one of the palace’s smaller rooms, drinking wine out of old-fashioned goblets a silent servant had brought in some minutes ago.

“Indeed I am,” answered the ‘god’. “And you are Captain James T. Kirk.”

Kirk had to do his best to conceal his surprise. “How do you know my name?” he had to ask nevertheless.

“My brother told me, before he passed away.”

“Your brother?” Suddenly, everything fell into place. _The being we encountered on Pollux IV – Apollo - he claimed to be a Greek god as well – of course he’s his brother. Damn, he must have managed to tell his sibling who has killed him!_

Dionysus seemed to be reading his thoughts. “Don’t worry, I won’t take my vengeance on you, Captain. I’m not as foolish as my brother was. I don’t aim to oppress my worshippers. I have learnt long ago that this only leads to rebellion. And in my family, rebellion has always been the beginning of the end. No, I have arranged myself with them – look outside, look at my city, isn’t she a thing of beauty?”

He pointed towards the window, which offered an impressive view of the towers and domes of La Città with the blue-green sea glittering in the distance whenever the fog was lifted by an occasional gust of air.

“I’ve already wondered about the Terran influence,” Kirk said. “So it was you, who brought it here. But why Venice? Wouldn’t Athens be more appropriate?”

Dionysus sighed and slowly shook his head. When he spoke now, he was barely paying attention to his visitor. “Athens… it’s been millennia, since I have reigned in Greece. Sometimes I barely remember the glory of the Parthenon’s white columns and the shadow of the olive groves…”

Eventually his eyes regained focus, but his voice hadn’t lost its wistful undertone. “After the Galilean God took over the Mediterranean and our family lost its power, I fled into the swamps of upper Italy. was the last one to leave Earth, Zeus Hera, Apollo, they all fled, but I was holding out. I did not seek power and thus I watched in silence as the little settlement in the lagoon began to grow, as the fishermen and traders gained their own power – I did not interfere, I only… supported them from the background and they never noticed.”

He stood up, walking slowly towards the window as he went on. “I saw the rise of the Doges, watched the city become the queen of the Mediterranean, saw her strip Byzantium of her ancient glory and transform herself into La Serenissima. As I had fallen in love with the city, I made her revel in the Carnivale – and I was heartbroken when I had to witness her decline. But I held out, I held out until the Corse arrived and dethroned the last of the Doges. This was when I couldn’t stand it anymore – I fled into space like my brothers and sisters had done before me.”

“And once you arrived on Thalassus, you reconstructed your own version of Venice?” asked Kirk.

Dionysus turned around to look at him. “Not really. The city existed before I arrived, five centuries ago. I just helped her to develop and added my own… aesthetical suggestions. She turned out rather nicely, don’t you think?”

“Well… yes of course.” Kirk still wasn’t sure what to think of this man and his story. “But you do rule the city, don’t you?” he inquired.

“In a manner of speaking, yes. I represent the city like the Doge did in ancient Venice, back on Earth. But the true power lies with the city council, which consists of Thalassians.” Once again Dionysus gestured towards the window.

“I understand,” said Kirk. “But there is one thing that still puzzles me. You say you are a god – but still you’re content to subordinate your power to human customs. You really are very different from your brother.”

“As I said, I tried to avoid Apollo’s mistakes. He chose an empty planet and ended up in dire need of worshippers, which eventually led to his end. I, however, settled on a planet full of life and made myself a part of La Città. When the Thalassians worship their city, when they worship the sea, they are worshipping me. Besides, I never felt much need for leadership and strict hierarchies. I prefer the bodily joys, the chaos of drunken revelry.”

_That’s all very well, but what does he want from me?_ “If I may interrupt you, …Dionysus. Why are you telling me all this?”

Dionysus backed away from the window and smiled. “As soon as I heard about you roaming the streets of the city, I was curious. And when I heard your name…”

“You heard my name?”

“Well, you haven’t been very subtle.”

Kirk remembered the merchants he had been talking to on St. Mark’s square and silently cursed himself.  _How could I have been so stupid?_

“So I knew that a stranger was present in the city,” Dionysus continued. “And when I realized that you were of alien origin and moreover, meant to pay me a visit, I decided to wait for you here. And I think now it’s time for me to ask youa question.” He stepped closer until he was standing at an arm’s length from Kirk. “What do you want from _me_?” he whispered.

Kirk hesitated.  _Should I tell him the truth?_ If Dionysus didn’t know where Spock and McCoy were, he wouldn’t be able to hurt them – and if he knew their whereabouts and meant them any harm he probably had already taken action.

“I’m looking for my two fellow officers,” he said. “We got separated when we arrived. I think they got lost in the fog, somewhere near the shore.”

“I see.” Dionysus’ face was unreadable. “Well, I’m afraid I have no idea where they are. They might have headed another way and not come to La Città at all.”

_If they are still alive_ … Worry was clenching Kirk’s heart as he thought of Spock. To calm down a bit he took a gulp from the goblet, which, until now, had remained untouched in his hands. He was quite sure the wine wasn’t poisoned, he had witnessed Dionysus’ servant filling both goblets from the same jug and the ‘god’ himself, who had sat down on the chair opposite of Kirk, had already emptied his.

The wine was rich and sweet and went to Kirk’s head faster than expected. The taste exploded on his tongue, a spicy note he had never experienced before and sudden warmth spread throughout his body.  _This was a bad idea.._ . Kirk wanted to put his goblet aside but Dionysus leant forward and took hold of his hand.

“Don’t,” he said. “There’s no need to be afraid. My wine has never poisoned anyone. Stop worrying and enjoy your drink!”

“It’s not that I’m afraid of poison, I just can’t afford to lose more time.” said Kirk and struggled to stand. “I have to find my friends!” When he finally got on his feet, the world was already spinning. Dionysus laughter filled his ears.

“Oh Captain, you are drunk already. Haven’t I told you who I am? My wine got hold of you, the very second the first drop touched your lips!”

_Coming to the palace was a mistake; I have to get out of here!_ Still swaying, Kirk tried to head for the door, but Dionysus overtook him easily and took hold of his upper arms. His strength far exceeded human and Vulcan standards; there was no chance to escape.

“Sit down,” Dionysus pushed Kirk backwards until he sunk back into his chair, unable to offer resistance. Dionysus himself did not sit down, but walked around the chair placing his hands on Kirk’s shoulders.

“There’s no use to run away,” he said softly as he bent down, his mouth close to Kirk’s ear. “You won’t get anywhere so running off will only make me angry – I’m sure you don’t want to risk that.”

Kirk turned his head. “You’re no better than your brother,” he hissed as he caught a glimpse of Dionysus’ yellow eyes. “With your threats and your manipulations – if you go on like this it’s only a matter of time until someone finishes you off! You  _do_ remember what we did to Apollo, don’t you?”

Dionysus lowered his head and Kirk could feel his smile against his neck. “Of course I do. But I like you, Captain Kirk. I don’t plan to imprison you. As I told you, I am not like my brother.”

“What do you want from me then? Why don’t you let me go?” The words escaped Kirk’s lips although he already knew the answer.

Dionysus’ hands left Kirk’s shoulders, stroking his chest through his uniform tunic. “Stay,” he murmured, his breath hot against Kirk’s skin, “Just for one night. We can talk in the morning.”

Just for one night…  _It’s probably insane to agree to this!_ But the wine ran hot and strong in Kirk’s blood and Dionysus’ fingers sent sparks across his skin - his rational judgment was rapidly becoming clouded.  _I’d be basically selling my body to him,_ the rational part of his mind insisted,  _besides, he’s been drugging me; this wine contains at least an aphrodisiac. I must resist…_ Nevertheless he could feel hardness rising between his legs and it was getting more difficult by the minute to ignore Dionysus’ caresses.  _Spock!_ Kirk forced himself to visualize the Vulcan’s handsome features, dark eyes filled with silent reproach. _What would Spock say if he knew…_ But he was unable to bring himself to end that thought.

And there was this irrational part of him that craved for the other man’s touch. It had been quite a while since he last had sex and the wine and whatever Dionysus’ had put inside made him hornier than he had been in months.  _It’s only physical_ , Kirk told himself.  _It’s not like I haven’t done this before_ – sleeping with an alien entity, male or female, to ensure the safety of his crew was basically part of the job description as a starship captain – well maybe not for  _every_ starship captain, but it certainly was when you were James T. Kirk.

“Still brooding?” Dionysus voice was a low purr, followed by a slick hot tongue, tracing the shell of Kirk’s ear. This time, Kirk was unable to suppress a moan. He heard Dionysus’ satisfied chuckle. “I think you’ve made a decision.”

“One night only,” said Kirk with the firmest voice he could master. “And tomorrow you’re going to help me find my men!”

“One night,” said Dionysus. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

“Well, that’s settled then,” said Kirk. He didn’t believe a word of Dionysus’ promise, but nevertheless turned around, reached out and roughly pulled the other man’s head towards him for a deep kiss. Dionysus was stunned only for a second, then he was kissing back. Hard. His lips and his tongue tasted of wine and spiced honey and for a short moment, Kirk lost all ability to think, simply drowning in the kiss.

Far too soon, Dionysus pulled away. “Not so fast,” he said and once again there was that damn smug smile spreading across his face. He held out his hand. “Get up!” Kirk struggled to rise from his chair, all his resistance was gone.  _What the hell is he doing to me?_ He felt dizzy, but simultaneously hyperaware of all his senses. All thoughts of Spock had evaporated from his brain. Besides, he was so hard it almost hurt.  _And he has barely touched me yet_ …

“Come with me.” Dionysus led him into a smaller room, which was mostly filled with a large bed. However, Kirk stopped paying attention to his surroundings, as soon as Dionysus pushed him backwards on the bed and kissed him again.

When he withdrew to catch his breath, his lips were swollen and his face was flushed, his golden eyes glowing. Kirk reached up and removed the wreath of vine leaves from Dionysus’ hair. “Looks ridiculous.” He smiled, before they indulged in another kiss. All thoughts about the dangers of his situation, about McCoy and Spock – they seemed light-years away as his body took control.

“Undress,” Dionysus whispered and once again Kirk obeyed automatically, pulling off his uniform tunic and regulation undershirt. Dionysus smiled and ran one finger across Kirk’s tanned chest. “Golden all over,” he whispered. “Beautiful.”

Afterwards Dionysus removed his own cloak and tunic and Kirk got a good view of his muscled torso. But his admiring thoughts were cut off abruptly when Dionysus bent down and his lips found Kirk’s left nipple while his fingers reached for the other one. Kirk moaned, aching for more. Usually it was him who was taking control in such a situation, but right now being taken advantage of seemed like the most natural thing in the world. Surrendering was so simple and the wine, still throbbing in his veins, made it even easier. Helplessly he pushed upwards, straining to rub his groin against Dionysus’ body, but the other man laughed and withdrew. Still smiling, he got up and moved to the table in the corner, while Kirk remained on the bed, groaning in frustration.

Very soon Dionysus returned, carrying a large two-handled goblet filled with dark red wine.  _Not again!_ But Kirk’s protest dwindled when Dionysus handed him the goblet. “Drink, my beautiful one, drink for me!”

The goblet was heavy and Kirk had to hold it with both hands. The wine poured into his mouth, dark and bitter-sweet – tasting like nothing he had ever experienced before. Dionysus’ voice echoed in his head: _I am_ _the giver of unmixed wine..._ He felt a hand on the back of his head. “Drink.” Unable to stop, he had to take another large gulp, even though his head was swimming already. He could feel the wine in his blood, burning, throbbing, conquering his flesh, his veins, his very self.

Kirks hands were starting to shake, but he had to take a third gulp. Wine was spilling over his chin, blood-red drops trickling along his throat and down across his chest. When he was finally able to put down the goblet, Dionysus bent down and licked the drops from Kirk’s body. Where his tongue touched Kirk’s skin, it tingled and burned like fire. “You are mine,” he whispered. “You have drunk the wine. You are one with me now.”

When Dionysus stood up and cast off the remainder of his clothes, Kirk sank to his knees, his body moving almost on its own accord. Sliding forward, still on his knees, he lifted his hands to rest them on Dionysus’ hips. He hesitated for only a second before he brought his mouth towards the other man’s cock. It had been quite a while since he had done this – _except for_... no, he mustn’t think about this, it was... Dionysus buried his hand in Kirk’s hair, pulled him closer. And Kirk closed his eyes, opened his mouth and took him in.

“ _Yes!”_ The words were in his head, in the very moment his lips closed around the hard shaft. “ _Oh, yes, swallow me – worship me – oh, worship me!”_ And then it turned into a language, Kirk couldn’t understand. But he was too far gone to wonder or to care – fully occupied with the task of giving pleasure and the pressure of his own burning arousal. His free hand had wandered between his legs, desperately rubbing himself through the suddenly far too heavy fabric of his uniform pants.

Kirk could tell Dionysus was close by his increasing moans, the way he bucked into his mouth while his fingers were digging hard into Kirk’s hair. Therefore he was more than surprised when the other man suddenly pulled away. Dionysus was visibly struggling to regain his control. His face was flushed and his pupils had dilated, his golden eyes were almost black. “Get up,” he urged, “On the bed!”

Kirk was aware of what was expected of him and his body trembled in anticipation. He shivered as he took another look at Dionysus’ cock, large and thick and slick with saliva and precome. All thoughts had been burned away from his head except for a single desire:  _I want him, I want him inside me!_ His fingers were trembling as he fumbled with his belt and frantically pushed down his pants, then he climbed on the bed and lowered himself on his hands and knees.

“ _So beautiful…”_ Once again Dionysus’ voice resounded right within Kirk’s head. Soft fingers were tracing the line of his spine, wandering lower, massaging his buttocks, finally finding their way in between. There was a pause and the sound of a cork being pulled from a bottle and then cool oil was trickling down his cleft. Kirk couldn’t suppress a moan and when the first finger finally made its way inside he had to restrain himself not to come from that sensation alone. A second finger followed, then a third, stretching him just in the right way. Kirk moaned again, tried to spread his legs wider to grant Dionysus better access. “Oh _please,_ come on,” he managed, arching his back and spreading his legs.

Dionysus withdrew his fingers and for a second, the emptiness was unbearable – then there was the slick sound of oil being applied on flesh and the blunt head of Dionysus’s cock pressed against Kirk’s opening. “Tell me what you want, say it!”

Kirk groaned, he wasn’t sure if he was able to speak at all, his whole body was on fire and he wanted nothing more than to be stretched and filled and finally to be taken by the god, have him inside him  _now._

“Please!” His voice was nothing more than a whimper.

Dionysus pushed forward, but not enough, his cock was still only brushing the opening and Kirk whimpered in frustration.

“ _Please,_ please… fuck me!”

As soon as the words were out, the god pushed in and Kirk couldn’t suppress a scream. There were no more words now, only the delicious pressure of the hard cock inside him, throbbing flesh and the swirling stars in front of his eyes.

And there was the god – the god, who filled his body, his blood, his mouth, his head – the god, who was everywhere in every thrust, who brought him closer and closer towards the ecstatic white void in the centre of the sun, the god who filled his head with the intoxicating drumbeat and the hectic rhythm of ancient pipes and foreign words and  _oh_ , he was close, so close – one, two thrusts, his whole body arched and then, there, he was almost there, oh  _please_ … and then the god’s fingers wrapped around his cock and he hit him just on the right spot and…  _oh yes, oh_ … there was only fire and stars and everything was drowning as the wave broke and Kirk was  _coming_ and the stars were exploding within his head. He barely felt how Dionysus pushed in a few more times, before he heard him moan and felt his hot seed spilling inside him – and then he collapsed and darkness was descending in front of his eyes – and then there was nothing and he blacked out.

 

* * *

 

When they woke up, the sun had long risen, but the fog was still there. McCoy yawned and stretched, his back felt stiff, but he had been able to enjoy more than six hours of deep undisturbed sleep and he could well live with that.

“Spock?”

The Vulcan turned around, his eyes were open; he must have been awake for a while.

“Did you sleep well?”

Spock didn’t reply until he had pushed his blanket away and sat up.

“I… had bad dreams,” he said eventually. “For a Vulcan, this is highly unusual.”

“Well, after what we went through yesterday, I guess it’s just your human side surfacing,” McCoy said, but the Vulcan didn’t seem very convinced. He didn’t speak while he dressed and tidied his bedstead.

Meanwhile, McCoy checked the bandage around his ankle. When he moved his foot carefully, there was barely any pain – the abrasions on his hands and knees seemed to have improved as well and no infection had appeared overnight. He applied some more antiseptic, just to be sure, and started to get dressed. His uniform pants were still wearable, although badly torn at the knees, but his blue uniform shirt was in shreds.

“I will go and ask our hosts if they could lend you some clothes.” Spock had disappeared through the door before McCoy had any chance to reply.

 _He’s trying really hard to avoid talking to me…_

With a sigh, McCoy sat down on the bed and waited. A few minutes later, Spock returned in the company of Guido Bellini, who handed McCoy a knee-length grey tunic in the simple style they had seen many of the Thalassians wearing

“It should be your size,” Bellini said. “I’m really sorry the maenad manhandled you so badly,” he added as he looked at McCoy’s bandaged foot. “I hope you’re feeling better today.”

“I am indeed,” McCoy answered, pulling the tunic over his head. “But I’m afraid we’ll have to leave you quite soon, we must continue to look for our friend.”

“Yes, our search for the captain is of primary importance,” confirmed Spock.

“Of course it is, but I’m sure you’ll have time enough to stay for breakfast?”

None of them refused this offer. (“It is illogical to start a long day without sufficient nutrition,” was Spock’s very Vulcan excuse for sitting down at the breakfast table)

They even had coffee, or at least some kind of caffeinated beverage and when McCoy had finished his cup, he felt oddly optimistic.  _I’m sure we’ll find Jim today. Maybe we’ll even get back to the Enterprise before sunset. I’ll be so glad once we’ve left this planet and its goddamn fog!_

Julia Bellini had been absent during breakfast. The three men were emptying their second cup of ‘coffee’, when she suddenly burst into the room. She must have been running very fast, as she was covered in sweat, her hair was wild and her breath was going very fast. Her eyes were wide with fear.

“ _You_!” She turned towards the two _Enterprise_ officers: “You must leave immediately!”

They jumped to their feet, instinctively looking around in search of potential enemies. “What is going on?” asked Spock.

Guido Bellini rushed to the window. “ _Maledetto_ , they are coming,” he hissed “You have to get out of here,  _quick_ !”

“ _Who_ is coming? Damnit, why don’t you tell us what’s going on?”

“It’s the city guards,” said Julia. “Someone has set them on us!”

“We have done nothing wrong, we are no criminals,” said Bellini, his voice was trembling. “The Vivarini must have sent them. There won't be any chance of a fair trial, the Vivarini always bribe the guards – they’ve been waiting for a chance like this for years!”

“So the feud between your families is that serious?” asked McCoy.

“Deadly serious,” said Julia. “Ten people have died in this year alone. Our families have been fighting for more than a century. It’s about who is in power in the Signoria. The Bellini and the Vivarini are the clans who put in the most members and whoever holds the majority in the Signoriarules the city.”

“I still don’t understand why they bother to attack you two. Haven’t you told me that you’re nothing but boatsmen, without any political involvement?”

“It’s because of our father and our uncle Luca,” Guido explained. “They are both members of the Signoria. I guess the Vivarini will attempt to blackmail them, they’ve tried before.”

“And they will succeed, if we don’t escape right now,” said Julia. “Hurry up, through the backdoor! There’s a _gondola_ waiting!”

“Yes, you two as well,” she urged Spock and McCoy to follow her. Bellini had already left the room and was climbing down the steep stairs towards the canal that ran behind the house. “As our houseguest you count as family – if they catch you below our roof or within our company, you’re dead as well.”

That was enough to convince both of them to enter the Bellini’s gondola as quick as possible. As soon as they were all inside, Bellini took the long oar and pushed the narrow boat into the middle of the canal. It accelerated with surprising speed and soon they passed below a bridge, turned left into another canal and the Bellinis’ house shifted out of sight.

No one dared to utter a word as the gondola was gliding silently through the canals. McCoy crouched next to Spock and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible.

Houses, bridges and towers were gliding by.  _It really looks exactly like Venice._ It occurred to McCoy that he still hadn’t asked anybody  _why_ this was the case.  _There must have been Terran input, but god knows when. I guess this is not the time to debate cultural history._

They had no idea where they were going. The Bellinis hadn’t told them when they had left the house and now no one dared to speak out of fear, the guards, who, according to Julia were also patrolling the bridges, might overhear them.

They entered another, larger canal, there was another bridge in front of them, an impressive construction made from white marble. While McCoy was still admiring the bridge, Spock addressed their boatsman.

“Mr. Bellini?”the Vulcan whispered, “This looks very suspicious, I don’t think…”

This was when the gunshots started.

There was a loud bang and the water next to the gondola exploded. Another bullet hit the side of the boat.

“ _Jump_!” This was Julia’s voice – she and her brother had already escaped into the murky green canal water.

The water… the water with the sea-monsters!  _No matter if they call them peaceful, I’m not going in there!_

Another shot rang and smoke was rising behind the balustrade of the bridge. McCoy could see movement, the guards were re-loading their guns – they seemed to be using old-fashioned front-loaders that took a lot of time to recharge. But still, the first soldiers were already aiming again.

Another shot – they couldn’t miss all the time. The Bellinis had already swum away and were just disappearing into the mouth of one of the smaller canals to the left.

A splash of water – even Spock had jumped into the canal.

“ _Get into the water, Doctor_ ,” he yelled, as his dripping head with slick black hair appeared on the surface.

McCoy was still hesitating. His whole body trembled when he thought about the tentacled maenads, which might be lurking below the opaque grayish-green surface.

“The creatures won’t attack you here!” Spock seemed to have read his thoughts. “The water is too shallow. Just _jump_!”

Another shot rung, this time so close that McCoy could feel the sharp gust of air as the bullet rushed by.

_I guess that’s it_ , he sighed, took a deep breath and jumped.

The water was colder than he had expected. For a second he was stunned, wildly struggling below the surface. He opened his eyes, the salty water stung, but all he could see was a muddy green in every direction he was looking.

_Don’t panic, just don’t panic – it’s not as bad as it looks_ .  _Just think… logically_ ! McCoy forced himself to stay calm (not that easy when you were quickly running out of breath) and tried to focus on his surroundings. Now he was able to recognize the light of the sky and dark shadow of the boat above him – definitively the right direction. He collected his strength and began to swim. When he finally breached the surface and gasped for air, he could see Spock paddling towards him with fast movements.  _Where did he learn to swim on that desert planet of his?_

“Doctor McCoy,” the Vulcan said. “Quick, we have to move away!”

“Alright alright. Just let me catch my breath!” McCoy sighed and swam on, trying to push away the thought how near he had come to almost drowning– wasn’t life on the _Enterprise_ always like this? At some point, he had stopped keeping count of his near-death experiences.

Only now, when he was crossing the large canal with broad strokes, he realized that the guards had left the bridge – at least there were no more gunshots. He didn’t know whether he should be glad or rather worry they might have come up with a new plan.

“Did you see where the Bellinis went?” he asked Spock who was swimming with breaststrokes at his side.

The Vulcan nodded. “We have to turn left when we reach the other bank.”

They managed to conquer the last meters and turned into the smaller canal on the left. The water was shallower here and they quickly discovered a staircase to climb onto the embankment. Gasping and dripping, they finally found themselves on dry ground again. McCoy looked back and shivered when he discovered in retrospective how wide the larger canal was – it must be pretty deep, he was sure one of the sea-creatures would fit in.  _We were lucky, we were just damn lucky!_

When they had recovered a bit, they walked on – neither McCoy nor Spock knew exactly where they were going or what their next aim was, but they both agreed that it was best to leave the area before the guards picked up their trace.

Thus they turned left, into the next alleyway, away from the canal. Three steps into it they froze.

“ _Don’t move_!”

The guards had appeared out of nowhere. Four big men in purple tunics and tall helmets clustered the narrow space of the alleyway; all had their rifles lifted and were taking aim.

“If you move now, you’re dead!”

None of the two Enterprise officers dared to move a finger.

“Now. Lift your hands. Slowly.”

They obeyed – there was no choice.

Two of the guards were still aiming their rifles, while the other two produced ropes from their pockets and set to tie McCoy’s and Spock’s hands behind their backs. McCoy swore, but as soon as the words left his lips one of the guards punched him hard into the chest.

“Silence!” he barked.

Pain spread red and hot through McCoy’s body. Of course the guard had managed to hit one of the bruises that already covered his ribcage.  _Oh shit_ , he thought,  _this is not going good._

Spock was his usual stoic self and had remained silent, but once the guards had finish to tie them up and urged them to come along, he cleared his throat and asked: “May I inquire why you have arrested us? We are nothing but travelers; we did neither plan to stay for long nor to be involved into your politics.”

“You stayed under the Bellinis’ roof, that’s enough. As associates of their family, you’re involved into their activities – those siblings you were staying with were planning treason against the Signoria.”

“But we…”

“Silence! Traitors like you have no right to speak to honest men! The only thing that awaits you will be the _Intercolumnium_.”

“The what?” asked McCoy.

“The gallows between the columns next to the Palazzo Ducale,” said the guard. “That means – execution for both of you.”


	4. Escape

When Kirk woke up he was naked - and suffering from a really bad hangover. Simply trying to open his eyes already hurt. Very carefully he tried to turn around: Next to filling his throat with bile, the movement made him realize that he was lying in a bed – alone, thankfully. One by one the memories of the night returned.  _Oh shit!_ Kirk groaned and made another attempt to open his eyes.  _Slowly_ … His head was still throbbing as if someone were beating his skull with a hammer, but at least he managed to get an impression of his surroundings.

He found himself in a different bed than the one from last night. This one was standing in a small room with narrow windows and large tapestries covering the walls. Most space was taken up by the oversized canopy bed with red satin sheets and a ridiculous amount of pillows, in which Kirk was still lying, unable to move. He had to take a deep breath and suppress the urge to vomit before he was able to consider the rest of the room.

Kirk gave the door a longing look, but before he was able to do as much as sit up, he felt the sickness rising in his throat again and decided to get some more sleep before starting any attempt to escape.

When he woke up again, the headache was still there, but the nausea had subsided. He was able to sit up, albeit very slowly, and even managed to reach for the glass of water, which had inexplicably appeared on the nightstand. As he sipped the cool liquid, Kirk contemplated his situation.

First of all he was naked, certain parts of his anatomy were still hurting and there was this dull throbbing pain behind his forehead, but otherwise the symptoms of his hangover were subsiding quicker than expected. Furthermore, he was still inside Dionysus’ palace and the god could reappear at any minute. Also, his friends were probably somewhere outside looking for him – he had lost enough time already. Certainly Spock and Bones would… But now that he was thinking of Spock, Kirk could almost physically feel the wave of guilt, rising inside him, slowly building until it broke into the inevitable question:  _What have I done?_

_No! I mustn’t think about it, not now_ . He took a deep breath, pushed the painful thought away and settled on the task at hand.  _It’s time I got out of here._

Kirk swallowed the remainder of the water, pushed the blankets away and lowered his feet to the floor. Then he carefully stood up – although dizziness set in, he was able to stand – and even walk a few steps without major accidents, thus he considered himself fit for action.

He looked around for his clothes and swore when he found out that there was no trace of his uniform. Instead someone had placed a flimsy silky  _thing_ on top of a chair in front of the mirror, together with tacky gold jewelry and a pair of complicated-looking sandals.

_They’re not really expecting me to wear_ this _?_ ‘This’ being a kind of tunic made of white, almost transparent silk in what appeared to be Ancient Greek style.

But it was either this or going naked. With clenched teeth Kirk pulled the tunic over his head and fastened the flimsy golden belt, which had come with it. Then he set to struggle with the lacings of the sandals. It took him far too long to fix the straps around his lower legs and even when he was done, he was afraid they might fall off any minute.

He got up again, sighed and massaged his temples. When his gaze hit the mirror, he wished he had kicked that damned thing in. But it was too late: He saw himself in the ridiculous short tunic, which, in combination with the amount of lovebites on his neck and shoulders and the bruises on his upper arms he couldn’t remember receiving, made him look like an Argelian rent boy.

Shaking his head, he settled for ignoring his mirror image and headed for the door. He pressed down the handle only to discover that it wouldn’t move. The door was locked. So were the windows, as a quick inspection showed. Moreover, behind the luscious curtains, the windows were blocked with solid iron bars – Kirk was imprisoned.

_So much for Dionysus’ promise_ … Kirk grimaced and rubbed his aching forehead. Very determined not to spend the rest of his life as Dionysus’ sex-slave, he set out to search the room for something could use to open the door with – or at least fashion into an impromptu weapon.

While he was still rummaging in the corners, there was a sudden knock on the door. Kirk span around, instinctively grabbing for the phaser that wasn’t there, but the person who entered the room couldn’t have been less threatening: It was a dark-haired boy, no more than sixteen, who was carrying a trayfull of food.

“Oh, you are awake and dressed, Signore. Very good. Here, I have brought you breakfast!”

Kirk wasn’t hungry. More precisely his stomach revolted at the very thought of food, but he knew he had to eat. He needed his strength. Moreover, it was better to pretend to play along, while looking for a chance to overpower the servant. So he forced himself to smile and sat down at the small table.

“Here you are.” A plate with white bread, some sort of unknown vegetable and what looked like fish was placed in front of him, together with a fresh glass of water.

“Thank you,” Kirk said and tuck in. The first mouthful made him feel like throwing up, but it got better afterwards and he ended up emptying the whole plate. During the whole time boy was watching him closely. When Kirk was finished, he cast him a scrutinizing look once over and frowned. “Your shoes. You didn’t lace them correctly.”

Before Kirk could say anything, the boy crouched down at his feet and started fumbling with his sandals.

“You don’t need to do that!”

The boy had already tied the last knot and shook his head. “The Liberator wants you to be dressed properly,” he said and stood up. Then he discovered the gold jewelry Kirk had ignored beforehand. “You need to put this on,” he said. “Otherwise the Liberator will not be content.”

 _There’s no way I’m going to wear this!_

But when the boy insisted, Kirk had to reconsider his aversion. If he wanted to escape from here and get a chance to find Spock and Bones, he had to cooperate, if only for a while. Until now, Dionysus and his people didn’t seem to suspect anything and logically (has was unable to use that word without thinking about Spock…) it was best to keep them this way. Kirk sighed and took the first trinket from the boy’s hand.  _Let’s just hope nobody will see me like this._ But even after his wrists and upper arms were decorated with gold bands, it wasn’t over. At first the boy nodded approvingly, but then he produced a piece of kohl out of nowhere and insisted on applying black lines around Kirk’s eyes.

Afterwards, Kirk was even less keen to look into the mirror. The boy, however, seemed satisfied, as he gathered the tray and the plate and prepared to leave.

“You will have to wait for a while,” he said, was already in the door. “They will fetch you later to bring you to…”

 _He’s alone and unsuspecting. Now or never!_

The boy was unable to finish his sentence when Kirk rushed forward, punched him in the stomach and pushed him against the doorframe. His assumption had been correct, there were no guards outside. Another kick when the boy struggled, a final well-applied blow and he fell down unconsciously – without even having the time to cry for help.

Kirk took a quick look around. He was alone at the end of a long corridor with no guards in sight. He bent down and felt the boy’s pulse – he was alive and breathing regularly. A quick search of the boy’s pockets produced a short knife in a scabbard, which Kirk fastened to his belt, and, more importantly. a bundle of keys. After short contemplation he also took the boy’s cloak – it was too short and he had difficulties fitting it around his broad shoulders, but it was better than nothing and it covered at least part of his ridiculous outfit.

Afterwards he seized the boy’s wrists and dragged him inside the room, before he closed the door from the outside, fumbled with the keys until he found the right one and eventually locked it.

Kirk was certain that he was still within the Liberator’s palace, but he had no idea of his exact location. As the corridor had no windows, he decided to just walk along, until he reached the door in the end.

Shortly before he arrived at said door, he heard voices. Kirk stopped, his hand jumping towards the knife, and he muttered a curse, wishing for his phaser, which probably had been confiscated by Dionysus’ men. The voices were coming from behind the door. There also were footsteps, two men at least, more likely three, approaching quickly.

_The door opens outwards and I have the advantage of surprise_ … Since this was probably his only chance, there was no use in long contemplations.

Kirk held his breath and silently counted to three until he could be sure the men were directly in front of the door. Then he charged forward and slammed the door open. He heard a bang and a nasty cracking sound as the door banged harshly against a human body. One guard collapsed, dead or unconscious, this time Kirk had no time to check up on him, since he was busy fencing off the second guard with a hard kick, a punch on the jaw and a judo throw, before turning to the last one, who had found the time to draw his rapier.

The weapon hissed through the air, barely missing Kirk’s arm. He jumped out of the way, drawing his knife (ridiculously small in contrast to the guard’s rapier), trying to fence off the attacker. The guard advanced again, the rapier jerking forwards lightening fast. This time, Kirk wasn’t quick enough. Burning pain blossomed in his left upper arm. He swore and frantically looked for another chance to attach or at least a convenient escape. But in vain, he needed more space, it was no use to work his way around the man with the rapier inside the narrow corridor.

He took a sharp breath, before he jolted to the right, yelling to create a distraction. When the guard’s rapier swished to the right as well, Kirk let himself fall to the floor, rolling abruptly to the left, aiming for the guards knees. The plan worked, the man lost his balance and staggered backwards, his rapier hit the floor with a clanking noise. Within seconds Kirk was on his feet again, grabbing the rapier and pointing it towards the guard’s chest.

“Well, I guess you weren’t expecting _this_!”

The guard spat out a curse and gritted his teeth.

Kirk looked around quickly, but the other two guards were still unconscious, no reason to expect surprise attacks from behind. “Now would you kindly show me the way out?”

When the guard didn’t reply, Kirk raised the needle-sharp point of the rapier to the man’s throat and applied a little pressure. “The way out?  _Please_ ?”

The guard swore again and pointed to the left. “Through the big hall, second door to the left!”

“See? That wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it? Now stay as you are while I’m walking through this door here, yes, stay there and now…” He closed the door behind him and pulled the bolts until a thick layer of dark wood separated him from the guards.

“ _Arrividerci, signori_!”

 

* * *

The prison cell was very cold. Water was dripping from the walls and mold lurking in the corners and below the damp straw on the ground. McCoy and Spock were sitting on the brittle-looking bench in the centre of the room, brooding after an argument that had occupied them during the last hour and had led to nowhere. Spock was fumbling with the broken communicator (which the guards had somehow overlooked when they had taken away their phasers), while McCoy contemplated the little bit of foggy grey sky visible through the cross-barred window.

“Execution at the Intercolumnium, tomorrow at noon,” had been the last words they had heard from the guards before the doors of the prison cell were locked.

_No trial, no witnesses – this is madness_ ! But all their complaints had been in vain and now they were stuck in this cell for what could easily become the last twenty-four hours of their lives.

McCoy got up and cast a weary look outside. The prison cell was situated at ground floor and the window led towards a narrow deserted backyard filled with junk and overgrown with weed, but there was no chance to escape via this route. McCoy listlessly rattled at the bars, a useless action, as they were newly installed, made of solid iron and didn’t move at all – it wasn’t that they hadn’t tried before - , but not even Spock’s Vulcan strength had been able to achieve anything here.

McCoy sighed again and turned away from the window. Restlessly pacing up and down the room wasn’t much better, though.

Spock lifted his head. “Doctor McCoy, I would be much obliged if you could stop this pacing. You are breaking my concentration!”

“I’m sorry, but there’s not exactly much I can do here,” snapped McCoy, whose nerves were rather frayed.

“You could help me with this,” said Spock and handed him a piece of wire from the disassembled communicator.

“I _could_ – if I had any clue what the hell you’re doing with that thing!”

“I am trying to rewire the circuits to circumvent the disturbances in the planet’s atmosphere, which have been preventing us from contacting the _Enterprise_.”

“With your bare hands _?_ And why haven’t you thought about that earlier, at the Bellini’s place for example, when we still had the chance to get hold of some tools?”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Because I needed time to think –which I would have plenty of, if you were to stop distracting me.”

“Alright, alright, I understand.” When McCoy sat down on the bench next to the Vulcan, he felt tiny spark of hope in his chest, nevertheless – maybe it was not too late, maybe they’d still get out of here in time and somehow manage to find Jim and get back to the ship. Maybe…

For now all he could do was holding the screws, microchips and cut wires Spock was handing him, careful not to drop one of the tiny pieces while the Vulcan was working. They were using a splinter of wood from the bench and a piece of the communicator’s lid as impromptu screwdrivers, which ranked rather high on the list of impossible technical endeavors McCoy had witnessed Spock undertaking during the last three years.

_Where is Scotty when you need him_ ? He refrained from saying it out loud, afraid to break Spock’s concentration – this mad venture was the only hope they had and he’d be damned if he’d do anything to interfere with its outcome. He tried to cling to more optimistic thoughts: Hadn’t he heard Kirk’s report about Spock basically building a goddamn  _time machine_ out of junk when the Guardian of Forever had trapped them in the 1930s? If there was anyone who could offer them a chance to get out of here, it was Spock. Until then, McCoy could just wait and hope.

 

* * *

 

The rest of Kirk’s escape was easy, for he encountered no more guards. Less than ten minutes later he found himself outside of the main portal of the Palazzo Ducale. He crossed St. Mark’s Square quickly, just in case someone was observing him from the Palazzo’s windows, and headed into the maze of alleyways. Surprisingly, people were paying less attention to his ridiculous sex-slave attire than when he had still worn his Starfleet uniform. Nevertheless, his hand remained at the hilt of the rapier in its makeshift hold at his belt.

Once he could be sure that nobody was following him, Kirk sat down on the bank of a canal, burying his head in his hands. It was only now, as the adrenaline was slowly burning away, that exhaustion set in. For a few second, he allowed himself to close his eyes and relax, until he felt his hammering heartbeat return to normal. Suddenly, he was very tired and the prospect of having to search the whole city for his friends, while Dionysus’ guards were probably already on his tracks, filled him with dread.

_I’m sitting here like I did yesterday - I’ve come full circle and reached nothing!_ He was not used to this feeling of despair, but without his ship and without his crew, he was not himself. He had gotten so used to his position as captain, had been virtually consumed by it, that he had almost forgotten how it felt to be simply Jim Kirk, devoid of command and without his crew – with not even Spock at his side.

Spock… After three years. it was unthinkable to be separated from him. Now that Kirk had time to think about it, missing him hurt as much as if a part of his body had been torn away. And now, after the night in Dionysus’ palace, guilt added another layer to this pain.

After the  _pon-farr_ and what had happened when they had returned from Vulcan, all Kirk had been doing was basically running away from Spock, which had led him straight into the mists of Thalassus III, into Dionysus’ bed and now towards the banks of this sad little canal, where he was stranded without a clue of what to do next.

There was more Kirk wanted from Spock than just his company and his friendship. He was sure about it, but even now, he still hesitated to put it into words, because if he did, everything, which was caged within his chest would be released– and then there’d be no stopping. Kirk was certain his head – and his heart – would explode. He knew it had to come out eventually – but later. There was no time for this now, he had to go.

Kirk groaned as he rose to his feet. Even though he had only been sitting for a few minutes, his whole body was aching as the strained muscles took their toll.  _Here we go, the search for Spock – now where do I begin?_

He was walking along the canal towards the general direction of St Mark’s Square, when he suddenly heard a voice from behind.

“Signore?”

Kirk turned around and caught sight of a dark-haired woman, who was halfway hidden within the entrance of a house.

“I wouldn’t go there if I were you,” she said, “I bet they’re looking for you, too.”

“What? Who’s looking for me?”

“The guards. They came to arrest your friends and I’m sure they’ll arrest you as well if they find you.”

“My friends? How do you know them? Explain!” Within seconds Kirk’s insecurity had gone and his voice switched into the familiar commanding mode, even if his heart was burning with joy. _Spock and Bones_! They were alive!

“Come inside,” the woman said. “It’s safer here.” She put out her hand as Kirk carefully approached her, his fingers once again on the hilt of his weapon.

“My name is Julia Bellini,” she continued. “I met your friends Signor McCoy and Signor Spock yesterday evening. They were our guests for the night.”

“How did you recognize me?” Kirk was still wary of a trap.

The woman smiled. “It’s not that hard,” she said. “Your hair and your skin color stand out. And you are moving the same way as your friends, no inhabitant of La Città would walk like this, paying that much attention to the canals.”

Kirk decided to trust her – for now. “Well, I think I believe you. I’m Captain James Kirk, as Mr. Spock and Doctor McCoy probably told you already. Now what did you say happened to them?”

The woman – Miss Bellini – was already talking when Kirk followed her into the cool darkness of the building: “They got arrested. The guards came when they were still staying at our – me and my brother’s house. We couldn’t do anything; they got hold of them when we tried to escape. Members of the Vivarini told the Signori _a_ that our family was involved in a revolt and the guards came to fetch me and my brother Guido – it was your friends’ bad luck that they were still under our roof when the guards arrived, because in the eyes of the Signoria that makes them traitors as well.”

“Traitors?”

“Traitors against the republic. And traitors are executed.”

Kirk felt cold sweat breaking out on his brow. “Don’t tell me they are already dead!”

“I don’t think so,” said Julia Bellini. “Formal executions take place at noon, at the _Intercolumnium,_ and there might as well be a trial in advance – although I doubt that anyone would discharge your friends in time.”

Kirk’s thoughts were racing.  _If the execution takes place at noon tomorrow I’ll have about twenty hours to save them, this should be doable – but first, I need more information._ “Do you know where the guards have brought them?” he asked.

“I’m not sure, but most political prisoners are kept in the cells at the Palazzo Ducale.”

Kirk searched his head for memories of Earth history. He hadn’t read much about Venice, but there was one book he remembered well, an account of the exploits of Giacomo Casanova. And he actually recalled a passage about the infamous Venetia prison. “You mean the cells under the roof where Casanova was kept? The ones that got burning hot in the summer?”

Miss Bellini shrugged. “I don’t think so. I have never heard of a Signore Casanova and the prison cells of the Palazzo Ducale are wet and cold rather than burning hot, because they are located at floor level and parts of them get flooded knee-deep when the tide is high.”

This time Kirk was glad that La Città wasn’t Earth Venice. Cells at floor level would be easier to access than cells under the roof; there should be a decent chance to rescue Spock and McCoy then. “Thank you for your help,” he said to Julia Bellini. “I think I know where to go now.”

He was halfway through the door, when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “Wait,” said Julia. “I’m coming with you!”

“ _You_? I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s far too dangerous and…”

Julia was rolling her eyes and before Kirk could move a finger, her hand had rushed to her belt and pulled out a long knife, which only a split-second later was touching Kirk’s throat.

“I think I am able to defend myself,” Julia said. “And besides, I consider this a personal matter. Your friends were family guests; it is our fault they got involved in this. And as my brother has been injured, it is up to me to make it up to them.”

“Well, that’s very brave of you, Miss Bellini, and I think you will be of valuable assistance, but could you _please_ take down your knife?”

She smiled and her teeth were very white.

“Of course, _Capitano_.”

 

* * *

 

“I think I am almost finished,” Spock mumbled between clenched teeth as carefully closed the communicator and removed the last protruding wires. “However, I had to improvise with some of the alterations, thus the device still requires a lens and a new connecting cable to be fully functional again.”

“Well, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of those in this wonderful cell!” McCoy sighed. He rose from the bench and stretched, trying not to let his nervousness show. It was long past noon, which meant they had less than twenty hours before they would be brought to the Intercolumnium (where- and whatever that was) and then… he preferred not to think about it.

“Spock…,” he commenced. “I just wanted to say…” He stopped and shook his head; his throat had suddenly become very dry. _No need to get emotional now, old boy. It’s not like there isn’t plenty of time to come up with an escape plan – or to wait for a miracle to happen._

The Vulcan looked up, his dark eyes inscrutable. “Doctor, you don’t need to…”

He was interrupted when something rattled against the window. McCoy flinched and turned his head, but Spock was quicker. The Vulcan had already jumped to his feet, hurrying across the cell. And then he froze in the middle of movement, when a familiar voice rang out in the yard.

“Hello Spock, hello Bones, did you miss me?”

“Captain…” Spock’s eyes went wide and his voice was a hoarse whisper in the back of his throat. His face became even paler than usual.

“Jim!” McCoy rushed towards the window and shoved himself in the narrow space next to Spock to get a chance to peer through the bars.

And there he was, James T. Kirk, standing in the middle of the tiny courtyard –dressed in a flimsy white …thing, holding an old-fashioned rapier in his hand. Despite the strange get-up there was the familiar crooked smile on his face, which McCoy and Spock had both feared never to see again.

“Good to see you, Bones.” Kirk reached up and tentatively jolted at the metal bars in front of the window. “Seems like we have to figure something out to get you out of here, gentlemen,” he went on as McCoy stared him in the face, still not believing his eyes.

“Jim,” he finally croaked. “Are you… are you wearing _make-up_?”

A slight blush crept onto Kirk’s cheeks “Long story,” he mumbled. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Let’s hope that there is a ‘later’,” grumbled McCoy. “Because _I_ don’t have a glorious plan – do you?”

Kirk shrugged. “We’ll think of something. Besides, I’m not alone.” He pointed to the left where a dark-haired woman emerged from the shadows of a decaying arcade.

“Julia! You’re alive!”

Julia Bellini smiled. “I am – it was me who met your friend and brought him here.”

“Fantastic! Where is your brother?” McCoy asked.

Julia’s face grew worried. “We got caught by the guards, when we emerged from the water. They were only two and we fought them, but even though we managed to escape in the end, Guido got injured, one of the guards shot him in the leg.”

“I’ll check on him as soon as we get out of here,” said McCoy and turned to Kirk. “Do you still have your phaser and your comm.?”

“I’m afraid not. They got taken away when I was with the Liberator.”

“The Liberator?” Julia’s eyes went wide. “You’ve met the Liberator?”

“I… I’ll tell you later, as soon as we’ve freed them!”

Julia didn’t appear very convinced, but she nodded her head and looked around, eventually pointing to the right. “I think there is a door which leads inside. It might be best, if we try to overpower the guards, while your friends create a diversion, what do you think?”

Kirk was visibly baffled, but quickly recovered himself and nodded. “A good idea, I couldn’t have thought of a better plan.”

Julia smiled. “Thanks,  _Capitano_ .”

“Bones, Spock?” Kirk was trying to regain his stance as the leader of the operation. “Think of something that makes the guards pay attention – screaming, shouting, throwing things, the usual drill – Julia and I will try to approach from behind.”

This was not the most original plan, but it had worked on several other occasions. McCoy nodded. “We’ll try our best, Jim!”

“Let’s go then!” Julia had already turned around and was heading for the door, but Kirk hesitated. Only in this moment, McCoy realized that Spock had remained silent throughout the whole conversation. It was only now that he spoke.

“Good luck, Captain,” he said and stretched out his hand through the metal bars.

Kirk smiled as he gently squeezed the Vulcan’s fingers. “I’ll try my best,” he said.

McCoy raised an eyebrow. Touching like this was highly uncommon among Vulcans and so far he had never seen Spock engaged in as much as a simple handshake. Not to mention the way he had looked at Jim. There had only been one occasion when Spock had acted like this, which was during those strange moments after they had returned from Vulcan, right after the the  _pon farr_ had passed. The way Spock and Kirk had looked at each other then, once Spock had realized that Jim was still alive. Quite similar to the look they had exchanged right now, as if they…. And suddenly McCoy understood.

But there was no time for further thoughts. Kirk and Julia had already left and it was now up to McCoy and Spock to execute the other part of their impromptu plan.

McCoy cleared his throat and focused on the matter at hand. “Do you think it will work?” he asked Spock, carefully moving towards the door.

“Do you want me to calculate the probability for us to succeed?” McCoy had to admire Spock’s iron self-control. “According to my current estimations the chance is…”

“Uhm, you’d better not tell me.” McCoy grimaced and tentatively tried to move the bench. “Could you just help me with this instead? We could make a hell lot of noise if we just break off the legs and beat them against the door – and they probably make good weapons as well.”

“Of course.” It took Spock only seconds to remove the bench’s legs – there was a dry cracking sound as the wood broke and it was done. Once again marvelling at the Vulcan’s strength, McCoy took one of the wooden pieces and tested its weight. “This should work. Let’s do it.”

Spock nodded and lifted his improvised club. Without further ado they began to beat against the cell’s door and McCoy tried his best to shout for help as authentically as possible.

At first, nothing happened.

_This is the oldest trick in the universe, it will never work! They’ll just ignore us until we get tired._ McCoy sighed, pulled himself together and yelled again: “Help! He’s attacking me! That green-blooded bastard’s got me! Damn, somebody  _help_ me, please!”

“I don’t think all of that was necessary,” Spock said dryly, but when the sound of footsteps rang out on the other side of the door, McCoy had no more time to respond.

“What’s going on there?” asked a gruff voice from beyond the door.

McCoy struggled to give his voice the most desperate sound: “Help! He… he’s got me, I can’t move, I…”

The door swung open and two guards, armed with halberds, stormed into the cell. When they found Spock and McCoy at the opposite sides of the room they stopped and stared for a split-second too long, as Spock jumped forward, moved behind the first guard in a single fluid motion and effortlessly applied his nervepinch. The guard rolled his eyes and sank down unconscious. The other one yelled for help, but in vain, because it was now that Kirk appeared from behind the door and knocked him out with skilled movements.

“Now this was quick.” The captain smiled. “It’s good to see you two.” He looked around and gestured towards the door. “Come on, we have to hurry! Miss Bellini is keeping watch, but I don’t know how much time we have until the next patrol arrives.”

McCoy and Spock were both only too eager to leave the cell behind and thus they followed Kirk without further ado.

“This is almost too easy,” Kirk said after they had reunited with Julia and left the prison building. “Shouldn’t there have been more guards?”

They had crossed several of the smaller alleyways and were now standing below an arcade next to a tiny, brackish canal, trying to decide what to do next.

Julia shrugged. “I don’t know, I’ve neither been arrested nor have I ever tried to escape from prison. You should ask Guido or my uncle Luca, he has…”

“Never mind,” said McCoy. “We’re out and that’s the important thing. Now take us to see your brother, I need to take care of his wound.”

Julia shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. You should leave the city as quickly as possible. Now that you have escaped from the Palazzo’s prison they’ll know you are dangerous and they’ll be looking for you all over the city!”

“Nonsense!” McCoy was adamant. “I have to treat my patient before we leave. We’ll look out for the guards this time!”

“I’m afraid I have to interfere here, Bone _s_.” Kirk had been unusually silent during the last minutes. “They _will_ be searching for us and if not for you then definitively for me.”

“For you? Damnit Jim, what did you _do_? You still haven’t told us anything about what happened to you last night!”

Kirk looked clearly uncomfortable. “Later. Now let’s think about how we get back to the ship. I assume your communicators are malfunctioning as well?”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “It depends, Captain,” he said. “I was working to rewire mine so its signals would circumvent the atmospheric disturbances. I just need a few more components to complete my work.”

“Well, then this should be our first priority. We need to get the communicator working, and then we try to contact the _Enterprise_.”

“But, Jim…” But McCoy was cut short by a stern look from Kirk.

Spock was no help either. “We should also attempt to get back to the point where we beamed down, Captain,” he said to Kirk. “Just in case the communicator signal doesn’t get through properly.”

“That coincides with leaving the city, Spock.” Kirk straightened his back and lifted his voice, ignoring McCoy’s muttered protests. “Gentlemen, we have a plan!”


	5. Fear Death by Water

Being back with the others made everything much easier. The foggy labyrinth of La Città had lost its menace and transformed into just another location on another planet, still a landing party astray and a mission gone wrong – but nothing that couldn’t be fixed.

Besides, Spock was there. Kirk could still feel the touch of the Vulcan’s hand on his. His skin had been so hot – sometimes Kirk thought he would never get used to the Vulcan’s higher body temperature. There had been a reaction when he had looked into Spock’s dark eyes, but it was still difficult to read the emotions behind the stoic façade.  _He is glad to see me, glad that I’m still alive._ _But what if he finds out what I’ve been up to_ _?_

Kirk shook his head and tried to push back the unpleasant thought. Right now he had no time for speculation. He was the captain, he had to lead his men out of here – everything else was secondary.

“Do you know where we can get a boat?” he asked Julia Bellini.

She nodded. “Unfortunately, I can’t give you one of our family’s  _gondole_ , you wouldn’t be able to steer them, but there must be another boat you can use somewhere around here…”

However, a lengthy discussion and half an hour later their plans had been altered and Kirk found himself together with Spock, crouching in the moldy darkness of a boat shed waiting for McCoy and Julia to return.

As their first priority was the repair of the communicator, they had agreed on McCoy and Julia to obtain the spare parts. It was too dangerous to have Spock running around due to his distinctively alien complexion. Kirk himself had volunteered to go, of course, but he had been overruled. Dionysus himself was searching for him, which meant it was better to stay undercover. Which left only McCoy as the least conspicuous member of their party. Plus, he was already wearing local dress, it should be fairly easy for him to blend in.

McCoy and Julia had left several minutes ago. Since then, Kirk and Spock hadn’t spoken much. It was only when the silence was becoming oppressive that the Vulcan cleared his throat and spoke up.

“If Doctor McCoy can get hold of an adequate lens and the necessary copper wires, I will be able to finish my alterations of the circuits,” he said. “Thus the communicator will be capable of receiving signals, which would otherwise be blocked by the particles within the atmosphere. There is a seventy-six percent probability that we…”

“Stop it, Mr. Spock, please!”

The very second Spock closed his mouth, Kirk was already regretting his words. He hadn’t wanted to snap at his friend like this. “I’m sorry, Spock. I…”

“It’s alright, Captain.”

Once again they lapsed into silence. For a long time, the chortling sound of the water against the gondolas in front of them was the only thing to be heard. Kirk turned around to look at Spock. The Vulcan was sitting only an arm’s length away, but it might as well have been another planet. He was not looking at Kirk, but staring straight ahead towards the opening of the shed, where a rectangular expanse of brackish water was the only source of light in the semi-darkness.

_I’m sure he knows what happened with Dionysus. He probably found it out telepathically when he was touching me. Otherwise he wouldn’t act so strange._ Guilt crept up like bile in Kirk’s throat.  _It was stupid of me, I should have known better._

In the greenish light that permeated the room, Spock’s feature’s appeared even more alien than usual. And even though Kirk had known him for years, he still marveled at the sight of the Vulcan’s pointed ears, the sharp angles of his eyebrows, the elegant cheekbones and the pale olive skin. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him, let his fingers run along the firm muscles of his arm, reach up and stroke his cheek, his lips, his ears, his neck, draw him closer and kiss him, kiss him in that messy human way the Vulcan still had to get used to.

Of course, Kirk did none of these things. Instead, he was sitting here, staring like a love-sick schoolboy. He was a Starship Captain, for God’s sake. He had mastered worse situations, why couldn’t he bring up the courage and  _talk_ to Spock, explain himself and finally end this misery?

“You are watching me, Captain.” The words hung in the air, not really a question. They had remained silent for so long that Spock’s deep voice was almost tangible, vibrating close to Kirk’s skin.

He didn’t know what to say. And now – finally – Spock turned his head and looked back. Transfixed, Kirk couldn’t help but stare back, mesmerized by the Vulcan’s dark dark eyes.

“Spock,” he murmured and reached out. And just as his fingers touched Spock’s shoulder, there was a knock at the door. McCoy and Julia had returned. Kirk froze in the middle of his movement and somewhat awkwardly lowered his hand. Spock’s face remained unreadable.

Oblivious to what had been going on, McCoy entered the shed, his face brightened by a broad smile when he lifted the small bag he was holding. “Look, Spock, we got all the supplies you need! Now let’s repair that damn comm and leave this place!”

He handed the bag to Spock, who didn’t answer, staring at the object in his hand as if it was a dangerous insect.

“Spock?”

The Vulcan flinched visibly. Kirk knew him well enough to see how much he was struggling to pull himself together. And all Kirk could feel was relief.  _He is not indifferent – on the contrary, he is most definitively feeling something – damnit Bones, you have the worst timing ever!_

“Thank you, Doctor” Spock’s voice was cool and controlled as he unpacked the bundle and started to tinker with the communicator. “I should be able to complete the design now.”

Julia had watched the exchange with apparent impatience. “You have to hurry up,” she said. “Whatever you’re planning to do with this device, there’s not much time left before the Wind sets in.”

“The wind?” Kirk remembered his conversation with the merchants on St Mark’s Square. “What kind of wind? I’ve already heard people talking about it yesterday!”

Julia’s eyes went wide. “Don’t tell me you do not know about the Wind?  _Il Vento_ ?”

“I’m sorry, but none of us seems to have heard about it.” This was McCoy, looking every bit as confused as Kirk.

“You must be coming from very far away if you don’t know about the Wind.”

“Well, it would be very helpful if you could explain it to us,” said Kirk.

“ _Il Vento_ rises in the evening, when the fog clears for an hour or two,” Julia began. “We don’t know exactly what is causing it, but it has been blowing from the swamplands in the west for more than a hundred years. Neither the _Signoria_ nor the Liberator have been able to do anything against it, although they sent out a number of expeditions to find out what’s causing it. But the swamps are dangerous, full of mist, boggy ground and poisonous insects, so the source has never been found.”

“But what does this wind _do_?” McCoy wanted to know.

“It makes us see things. If we breathe in the air, whatever happens to be in our heads manifests right in front of our eyes. Most of the time it makes us encounter our worst fears. Every year people die of fright because of _Il Vento_. We’ve learned to remain at home, whenever the fog lifts and the wind sets in. I strongly suggest that you do so as well.”

_That makes sense_ Kirk thought.  _This is why I saw Spock, even if he wasn’t present. Hardly surprising, I haven’t been thinking about anything else these days._

“The sea-creature!” McCoy’s face had grown pale. “I saw one of them in the middle of the city, it could have impossibly appeared there on its own.”

Spock looked up from his work with the communicator. “It is only logical,” he said. “You were attacked by the creature when we arrived and the wind brought up the obvious fears from the upper levels of your sub-consciousness.”

 _The most obvious fears… Does this mean I’m afraid of Spock?_

“Well, I’m not terribly keen on facing that thing again, but I’d say that we should be able to remain outside during the wind, now that we know what we have to expect,” said McCoy.

“Doctor McCoy is right,” said Spock. “We cannot risk waiting for the wind to cease. We have to return to the spot, where we beamed down as soon as I have finished my repairs.”

“And why is that?” asked Kirk. “Why can’t we simply ask Scotty to beam us from where we are now, once you’ve established contact?”

“The atmospheric disturbances render our signal very weak, Captain. There is not much time to transmit our coordinates – if the _Enterprise_ will be able to hear us at all. If we head back to the location where we arrived it might be easier for them, as the coordinates will still be saved within the computer.”

“This sounds very logical, Mr. Spock,” said Kirk, struggling to keep his voice normal as he addressed the Vulcan. “Continue with your repairs, while we prepare for leaving.”

He turned towards Miss Bellini. “You spoke about getting us a boat,” he said, looking around in the shed, which was, of course, full of boats.

She nodded, but her face grew worried. “You should be able to take one of these rowing boats here – but I won’t be able to come with you to guide you.”

“Oh yes of course the wind!”

“I’ll have to remain inside and wear this.“ Julia rummaged in a pocket of her coat and took put a piece of cloth and a small glass bottle. “We all do – filtering the air and staying inside reliefs the effect of the wind. Otherwise... Well, I told you about it, I for myself don’t want to die of heart failure.”

“The Thalassians’ metabolism differs from humans and Vulcans,” Spock explained. “Their respiratory passages seems to be adapted to the high air humidity, thus they absorb airborne substances much faster than we do.”

“Well, it’s a shame Miss Bellini cannot come with us.” Kirk’s regret was sincere, since he had come to like the courageous young woman. “But in the end, these circumstance will be very convenient for our escape, don’t you think so, gentlemen? There will be no guards to pursue us.”

“Well, I hope so,” said McCoy.

Julia did not appear very convinced. “The guards won’t pursue you; you’re right about that,  _Capitano_ . But you’ve mentioned that you had a … disagreement with the Liberator. No one knows what powers he is capable to unleash on you.”

“Wait a moment,” McCoy interrupted her. “You’ve all been talking about this Liberator, who rules this city. Who is he, and what have you” he looked at Kirk “done to annoy him so much?”

Once again, Kirk squirmed. “Let’s keep it short: I’ve… visited him and there has been a … disagreement, which isn’t very important right now. I’ll explain it to you once we’re back on the ship, Bones. What is far more relevant is the fact that the Liberator claims to be the Greek god Dionysus – does this remind you of anything?”

“Another Greek god? Like Apollo, back on Pollux IV?”

“Exactly.”

“Oh shit. And of course, you just _had_ to upset him. Great, Jim, thanks for making our stay here so much easier!”

“I’m sorry Bones, I didn’t mean to and I…”

“Captain, it would be far more important if you could inform us about this so-called god’s specific powers.” Spock’s voice was as cool and distanced as usual when discussing scientific phenomena, but Kirk was sure there had been a muscle twitching in his face, betraying Spock’s emotions, which were, however, still unreadable to him.

“Go on, Jim, tell us, what Dionysus is going to do to us!” said McCoy “Will he crush us beneath his feet or does he prefer to have us torn apart by a bunch of satyrs?”

A brief vision of Apollo’s thirty-feet figure manifested in Kirk’s head. But so far, Dionysus had refrained from displaying the god-like powers of his brother.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “Until now, Dionysus hasn’t done anything, but trying to keep me imprisoned in the palace. Maybe it takes up all his resources to sustain his power over the city’s inhabitants as it is and he is not able to perform any more stunts to keep us here?”

Julia Bellini, who had been silent for a while, shook her head. “God-like powers you say? The Liberator is many things, but we’ve never considered him a god – and he has never done anything god-like in all those years.”

This was further proof to the theory that Dionysus used his powers differently from Apollo. Somewhere in the city a power plant similar to the one they had discovered below Apollo’s temple must be hidden – too bad that there was no time left to seek it out. Controlling the source of Dionysus’ power would have made things a lot easier.

Kirk’s thoughts were interrupted by a sound he would have thought never to hear again – the familiar chitter of the communicator.

“It’s working!” A broad smile spread across McCoy’s face.

“Indeed it is,” said Spock and flicked his elegant Vulcan fingers across the controls. “But I must switch it off again until we reach the shore – I had to improvise the new circuits and they are still extremely unstable. We cannot risk damaging them by using the communicator unnecessarily.”

“Well then, let’s take that damn boat and _leave,_ ” said McCoy, already halfway on his way to the water. “What are you waiting for?”

Kirk was quite glad that the discussion about Dionysus and the events within the Palazzo Ducale had been postponed and he quickly followed the others as they entered the boat. After a quick instruction from Julia, Kirk and Spock took hold of the oars.

“Try to start slowly,” Julia said, “and pay attention to keep up a consistent rhythm. Otherwise it should not be too difficult. After all, this is just a simple rowing boat, not a _gondola_ , which would take years to learn to steer properly.”

“But what about you?” Kirk asked when Julia made no move to leave the shed or take a boat on her own. “Isn’t it too dangerous for you to stay here, with all the guards after you? Aren’t they still hunting you and your brother?”

“Don’t worry about me,” she said, lifting her chin and flashing him a valiant smile. “This isn’t the first time the Vivarini have intrigued against my family. I’ll go and take care of my brother and then we’ll hide with relatives on one of the islands in the northern parts of the lagoon. In a few weeks, things should have calmed down and it will be the Vivarini who are pursued by the Signoria – it’s always the same.”

Kirk was not convinced, but he had no chance to express his doubts, because Julia reached out with her foot and gave the boat a hearty kick, pushing it several feet towards the open water.

“Leave now,” she said, lifting the veil, which was supposed to protect her against the fog, and started to wrap it around her head. Her voice sounded muffled once her mouth had disappeared behind a layer of cloth. “I am glad I got to know you. Maybe we’ll meet again one day! _Arriverderci_!”

The boat was gliding backwards and Spock had started rowing. Kirk had no choice but to grip the other oar.

Julia waved them goodbye. All that remained of her face was the pair of dark eyes visible above her veil. “ _Arrividerci,_ ” she repeated.

Then the boat left the shed and they were surrounded by the muddy green water of the open canal.

“Time to get back home,” Kirk said as he and Spock began to row in earnest.

 

* * *

 

The wind was approaching fast. They could feel it, a cool breeze on their faces as the fog was slowly lifting. And while the stately façades of the buildings at the canal sides were steadily emerging from the mist, the city and the waterways grew more and more deserted.

McCoy was sitting at the boat’s rear, nervously watching Kirk and Spock pull the oars. He felt somewhat redundant, even if he knew perfectly well that only two people could do the rowing. Instead, he was looking around, ready to cry out at every moment, should their persecutors appear on top of a bridge or within a canal mouth. But so far, no guards were to be seen. On the contrary, La Città was quickly transforming into a ghost town. Soon enough, not a single person was to be seen, neither on land nor on the water.

“I don’t like this,” McCoy said to no one in particular. “Gives me the creeps.”

Kirk turned his head and cast him a sympathetic glance. “It’s not far,” he said. “Look, over there, we’ve almost reached the end of the big canal, you can already see the open water.”

It was good to have Jim back. McCoy hadn’t even realized how much he had missed him. But still, even now that their trio was reunited, he was unable to shake off the fear that crept up in his throat as soon as he caught sight of the sea.

The water was deep out here; deep enough to hide lots of the dark tentacled creatures with their uncanny orange eyes and slick black skin. McCoy shivered. He hadn’t believed a word of Julia’s assertions that the maenads were harmless. His unease grew stronger when he realized that the wind had freshened.

_I mustn’t think of them. Otherwise they’ll be all upon me within seconds._ He tried hard to focus on something else, but the images wouldn’t leave his head.

He shook his head, forced himself to look away from the water and focused his gaze on his friends instead. Even if he could only see their backs, their sight calmed him down a bit. Jim’s broad shoulders and Spock’s lanky Vulcan frame had become fix points, familiar sights of his daily life since he had boarded the  _Enterprise._ Planets, patients and missions changed – but those two, they remained the same. They…  _God, what am I thinking?_ But still, this sappy stuff was better than the sea-creatures. ‘Maenads’, the Bellinis had called them… Vague memories crept up in his head. The name sounded familiar. Maenad… this was definitively not an Italian word.  _Wait…_ no, it sounded Greek instead. Greek… the Bellinis and Jim had both mentioned Greek names – The Liberator, who claimed that he was the god Dionysus. Dionysus… the god of wine with his entourage of satyrs and…

“Oh shit!”

“Bones? What is it?” Kirk nearly dropped his oar when he span around and saw the look of panic on McCoy’s face.

“The maenads,” McCoy gasped, “They are under Dionysus’ control! The guards from La Città won’t follow us, because of the wind. But the maenads, they…”

Too late. The water was already boiling.

He saw the shock in Jim’s eyes, when the tentacles shot out of the water. Dozens of them, no  _hundreds_ as the sea became a maelstrom of foam, huge black groaning bodies and swirling tentacles as thick as a human thigh.

“ _Row_ ,” Kirk screamed. “We have to get out of here!”

 _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! We’ll never make it!_

Their boat seemed fragile as a kid’s toy, jumping up and down between the waves. Foam was splashing high and within seconds they were all drenched to the bone. A large tentacle shot through the air, missing their heads by millimeters.

But still, they were moving forwards, meter for meter.  _Why haven’t they pulled us down_ ? For creatures of this size it must be a piece of cake to grab the boat and simply pull it underwater.

Instead, they were maneuvering through a forest of swarming tentacles; foul stench filled the air as slimy water was dripping from the monsters’ writhing limbs. Icy wind penetrating their clothes, McCoy was barely able to grip the boat’s low railing, let alone make any move to defend himself. He was wondering how Jim and Spock managed to hold their oars at all.

 _The darn wind will make us freeze to death if the maenads don’t get to drown us!_

 _Wait a second… The Wind…_

 _Of course!_

“They’re not real!” McCoy shouted against the storm and the roar of the waves. “It’s the wind! We’re seeing them, because we’re expecting them to be here! _They’re not real_!”

Unfortunately the revelation didn’t make the creatures vanish. And it was still a tricky to navigate between their splashing bodies, cowering beneath the whipping tentacles. For a hallucination the creatures felt extraordinarily solid.

But they didn’t attack. And after what seemed like an eternity filled with icy foam, burning salt and reeking monsters, the boat was finally approaching the shore.

“Five meters to go,” yelled Spock “Beware of the…” Too late. With a crunching sound the boat collided with a rock. The sharp edge pierced directly through the hull and within seconds the vessel was filling up with water.

“The communicator!” shouted Kirk, “ _Spock_! Watch out for the comm!”

They were all treading water by now. The Vulcan answered something unintelligible and awkwardly lifted the device above his head as he was trying to swim with one arm.

Wave after wave hit the boat and only seconds could have passed until they had to abandon the vessel completely. The shore was not far away, but the surf was brutal and treacherous rocks were lurking beneath the surface. One of them hit McCoy’s already damaged ankle and he bellowed a curse, only to be silenced abruptly as a sudden wave washed across his head and filled his mouth with salt water.

 _If I’ll ever make it out of here alive, I will…_

There was no time for wishful thinking, because the next wave was already approaching, right after he had resurfaced and managed to clear his eyes and throat of the stinging water.

“Bones!” That was Jim. “Are you alright?” His voice seemed to be coming from several yards above, but right now the waves were too high for McCoy to see him. He could be glad that he hadn’t completely lost orientation.

“Hurry up Bones, we’re over here! It’s nothing more than a few meters until the shore!”

“I’m a doctor, not a dolphin,” McCoy grumbled into the waves. He held his breath, closed his eyes and headed straight into the direction where he had last heard his friend’s voice.

And suddenly, he could feel the ground beneath his feet again.

The water had become shallow, there were solid rocks scraping his knees and then two pairs of strong arms were lifting him out of the water and helped him to climb the piles of rocks that made up the shoreline.

“Thanks Jim, thanks Spock,” McCoy mumbled before he sank down on the floor, because his knees were shaking badly and his ankle hurt like hell. “I… I think this means we made it, doesn’t it?”

“I wish this was the case,” said Spock, “but I am afraid we cannot be sure until we test the communicator.”

“Well, we should trust Mr. Spock in this case, don’t you think so, Jim?” McCoy struggled to get back on his legs.

“Jim?”

“ _Jim?”_

“Captain?”

Jim’s face was sickly pale and he was staring onto the sea, an expression of utmost horror on his face. “It’s not over yet,” he said. “ _He_ is coming for me!”

McCoy followed his gaze and froze. At first he couldn’t make out details with the foam of the surf and the mist still omnipresent in the air, but as soon as his eyes adapted to the situation, he just stared in disbelief.

Someone was coming from the city, drawing closer by the second – someone who was driving a chariot pulled by  _four goddamn maenads_ !

“It is him, Dionysus,” Jim said, his voice still weak. He was visibly fighting to suppress his shock.

After looking at his friend McCoy had to turn his head to the sea again, he couldn’t help but stare in terror as well.

The chariot was fast approaching; four maenads were parting the waves with quick movements, white foam roaring around their large black bodies, their tentacles weaving a writhing maze in front of the vehicle. The chariot itself seemed to be constructed after historical Terran patterns; it closely resembled antique models, McCoy had once seen in one of those books Jim collected. Behind the chariot’s golden railing stood a man, apparently the one, who claimed to be the Greek god. In contrast to the Apollo, this “god” at least did not exhibit superhuman size. The expression in his face, however…, and his eyes,  _oh dear god his eyes_ ! 

“Bones!” McCoy heard Jim’s voice, but he was unable to answer, he could do nothing, but stare into these glowing golden eyes.

“ _Bones_!” There was a hand on his arm, someone was shaking him, but he couldn’t move. His whole field of vision was filled with gold. He thought he could hear the sound of drums and pipes above the roaring of the waves and there was a strange smell in his nose, reminiscent of pines and olives – not that far away from the cedars and pines he recalled from his youth in Georgia.

“Bones! _Leonard_!” Fingers clamped down hard on his wrist. “Goddamn it, Bones, _listen to me_!”

The golden eyes were drawing closer, everything was  _drowning_ in gold, the pipes were growing louder and everything… 

Then there was a different pair of eyes within his field of vision, something disrupting his eye contact to Dionysus. It took him a while until he recognized Jim’s face. At first he wanted to push him away, wanted to return into the golden dream and sink into the rhythm of the ancient music. Someone touched his face, warm fingers on his foam-wetted skin.

“ _Bones!_ Come back to us!”

Kirk’s eyes burned into his – they were golden as well, a different hue, darker, but warmer and without the overwhelming power of the god – human eyes – human…

And then he felt something  _break_ and he was himself again.

“Jim!” He shook his head, trying to clear away the fog that had been clouding his mind.

“Bones – I thought he’d got you!” Kirk said, once again looking over his shoulder where the chariot was still fast approaching. All in all, McCoy could only have been absent for seconds.

“Now hurry up!” Kirk grabbed his arm. “Spock’s almost done with the comm, we’re close to establishing contact.”

They took a few steps across the rocky shoreline and reached the Vulcan who was still working at the communicator.

“He’s almost there, Mr. Spock, we’ve only got seconds!”

“I’m doing my best, Captain,” the Vulcan said, but even his voice was shaky as his fingers scurried across the communicator’s controls.

They were all holding their breath. And there it was, the faint chitter as the device was coming to live.

The roar of the maenads was coming closer by the second – nobody dared to turn around, fearing that the maenads’ tentacles might grab them any second – McCoy could almost feel their slimy grip around his ankles.

And then, suddenly, there was Scotty’s voice. “ _Enterprise_ here, Captain, is that you?”

“Scotty!” Jim’s voice was flat and breathless. “We are alive and well, but in a hurry! Three to beam up at the very coordinates we arrived yesterday! - Kirk out.”

“Aye, Captain.” The communicator made a strange clicking sound when Scotty had finished. _Let’s hope this doesn’t mean it’s broken again_.

“ _Stop_!” A voice rang out from the sea and with a sudden heavy roar the maenads’ tentacles smacked onto the rocks, only inches from where Kirk had stood seconds ago.

Dionysus had arrived.

“ _I forbid you to leave my city_!” The god was dressed in a leopard skin, waving a large scepter, his eyes flaming.

Kirk turned around and was just opening his mouth to reply when the golden glitter of the transporter beam engulfed his frame. McCoy felt it as well, the familiar cool tingle set in, running through his body, once he had stopped moving and assumed standard transport position. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Spock, similarly preparing for transportation.

And finally everything dissolved into gold and within the blink of an eye they were back on the  _Enterprise_ .

 

* * *

 

When Kirk opened his eyes again, he was back on the ship.  _His_ ship. The sound of the engine, the soft hum of the air-conditioning, the familiar smell – relief hit him with full force.  _We’re back – we’re back home. Finally._

“It’s good to have you back, Captain.” Scotty appeared from behind the transporter console, where he had waited with Lieutenant Kyle, relief visible on his broad face. “And you two as well, Mr. Spock and Doctor McCoy!”

Kirk’s legs were shaking when he stepped down from the transporter platform. He straightened his back and tried to regain his composure, but when he looked at Spock and McCoy he realized that they were both as shaken as him.

All three of them weren’t cutting the best figure, dripping wet as they were in their ragged mixture of the torn remains of their Starfleet uniform thrown together with clothes from La Città (not to speak of the ridiculous outfit he himself was still wearing)

“Well, Mr. Scott, I will resume command in a minute, keep the ship in orbit until then.”

He knew that the story wasn’t over – he only had to look at Spock and see the expression on his face to realize that the aftermath of their sojourn on Thalassus was yet to come. But for now it was best to carry on with the usual routine; the familiar mechanisms of command kept him from thinking too much.

“Jim, don’t you think…”

“Not now, Bones. I’ll just get rid of these rags and then I’ll return to the bridge immediately.”

McCoy had no chance to answer; Kirk was already hurrying into the direction of his quarters.

Ten minutes later, he was ready to resume command. It was good to be wearing his Starfleet uniform again. When he took a quick look into the mirror, Kirk felt like himself again for the first time in over twenty-four hours.

When he left his quarters and headed towards the turbolift, McCoy was waiting for him.

“Jim,” he said and stepped in the way when Kirk tried to enter the lift. “Wait.”

“What is it, Bones? Don’t you want to come to the bridge with me?”

McCoy frowned and shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jim,” he said. “Don’t you think we should sit down and talk for a while before you get back into the command chair?”

“But the ship…”

“The _Enterprise_ will get along fine without you for another half hour. You know that Scotty takes good care of her.” He put a hand on Kirk’s arm. “Come with me to sickbay, Jim. I think we both need a drink.”

There was no point in refusing. “You know me too well,” he grumbled into McCoy’s direction. The doctor gave him a wry smile as he led him towards sickbay.

After they had sat down and McCoy had fetched the bottle of Saurian brandy he was hiding ‘for emergencies’ inside one of the medical cabinets, there was no escape.

“Well Jim, I think you should tell me about what happened in the city,” said McCoy and poured him a glass. “Also, there is something about Spock, I don’t really understand. Do you think you could help me with that?”

Kirk sighed, downed his brandy and began to talk.


	6. Epilogue

Kirk comes to see him as soon as the shift is over. Spock has expected him, but he isn’t sure whether he anticipates or dreads this encounter.

But as soon as Spock looks at him he knows that the time for talking has passed. There is this glow in Kirk’s hazel eyes, a glow Spock recalls only hazily from the dark red hours after the _pon farr_. He has been so certain he would never see it again.

Kirk approaches him with the familiar half-smile on his face. “Spock,” he whispers, his voice is soft and throaty– it is that kind of voice he usually uses when he aims to seduce a woman.

One step closer. Heat is rising in Spock’s chest, as all the long-suppressed emotions of his human half roar up in their restraints. Usually, this would be the moment when he escapes from human company and withdraws into his quarters, to spend the next hours in deep meditation until he manages to eliminate all the treacherous traces of humanness.

But not today. Today, it is the Vulcan in him, who weakens as the human gains power. A power that increases with every second Spock is looking into Kirk’s eyes.

“Spock,” the captain says. “I’ll leave if you want me to. We don’t have to talk if you...”

Spock shakes his head. “No Captain. I welcome the discussion.” He is unable to erase the formal speech patterns from his language. But even the Vulcan tongue would not be able to put into words what is happening inside him. In fact no language in this galaxy would be adequate to express what James Kirk does to him.

Thus he decides to escape the boundaries of language as he lifts his hand and extends it towards Kirk. The captain’s eyes go wide as he slowly lifts his own hand and reaches out. He knows enough about Vulcans to understand what this means to Spock.

And still, Spock can’t suppress a twitch as Kirk’s cool fingers wrap around his. This is something Vulcans are not supposed to do to humans, something their society doesn’t approve of, but Spock has seen his own parents finger-kissing like this many times.

He realizes the captain is on the brink of withdrawing his hand.

“No,” whispers Spock and Kirk’s fingers remain in his while the telepathic bond is slowly growing. There’s warmth, deep affection and still some insecurity – and something else: something deep and feral and _burning_ , barely restrained behind the captain’s calm exterior. The spark is transmitted through their linked fingers and when Spock looks into Kirk’s face again, it becomes clear– it’s desire, pure raw _human_ desire.

A smile lightens up Kirk’s face and in this very moment, his fingers begin to move, softly massaging Spock’s palm.

 _How does he know about this_? The heat, which suddenly shoots through Spock’s veins, drives away all logic and Spock has to battle hard to get his brain back working. _Of course, it is only logical for him to enquire about the ... lesser known aspects of Vulcan biology. He might have asked McCoy for a look into the database or..._ He is unable to complete this thought, because Kirk has increased the pressure on his hand, circling around his palm and stroking up and down his fingers and it is all Spock can do to stifle the moan that wants to escape his lips.

You like this, don’t you?” Kirk whispers. Apparently, he has no intention to talk about their sojourn on Thalassus III.

“This... this question is rather superfluous, Captain, as you could easily deduct an answer from... from my physical reaction.” Spock struggles hard to keep his voice calm.

Kirk chuckles and takes another step forward to close the distance between them, still not letting go of Spock’s fingers as he places his free hand on his shoulder. Two points of contact are almost too much. Spock has to close his eyes and take his time to adjust to the unusual sensation. _This is not the Vulcan way_ , his conscience yells, while the other half of his self wants nothing more than give in.

He is not sure whether he has reached equilibrium, when he opens his eyes again.

Kirk’s face is so very close – his eyes seem to fill Spock’s whole field of vision.”Let me kiss you,” he whispers.

“You are already kissing me... Captain,” Spock manages to reply.

Kirk’s lips curl into another smile. “The human way,” he says, “And by the way, stop calling me Captain.”

“I know... Jim!”

Kirk – Jim – takes this as an agreement. His left hand moves towards Spock’s neck, pulls him closer and finally pulls his head down into a kiss. When their lips are touching and a moist human tongue enters his mouth, Spock is stunned. Vulcans do not kiss like this and he has never before experienced the human way himself. He closes his eyes, because his observations have told him that this is what humans do when they kiss, and tries to focus on the sensation.

Jim’s body is melting against his; Spock has never felt him so close. Even though the cloth of their uniforms is separating them he can feel the cool flesh of the human body together with each curve of Jim’s limbs and every hard muscle. And of course, he notices the hardness between Jim’s legs and hears the obscene little moans his captain manages to produce in the back of his throat while kissing.

It’s these sounds together with the fingers, still caressing his hands, which bring out the heat in Spock. He does not even need to place his fingers on the melting points to increase these sensations .Jim’s passion and desire are seeping from his mind through his skin into their shared touch and Spock  _knows_ .

Jim pulls away, very slowly, breaking the kiss, even though their fingers remain intertwined. His lips are moist and he is breathing hard, Spock notices the blush on his cheeks and the fact that his pupils are dilated, his eyes have gone dark.

“Spock, I want you,” he murmurs and he reaches out for Spock’s uniform tunic, trying to push it upwards. “I want you to…”

“No.” Spock grabs his wrist and stops him. “There is something that has to be done first.”

He can sense Jim’s red-blooded human pulse throbbing in the veins of his wrist, feels another wave of emotions, which are only partly his own, floating through his body, usurping his mind.

It is so very much like what happened after the  _pon farr_ – he can feel his control slipping away. He _wants_ Jim, something feral inside him is unable to wait, wants him right now and here, without restraint, rough and hard and…  _no!_

“Spock?” Jim’s voice is soft, his eyes have gone wide and he gives Spock a quizzical look. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Spock manages, his voice sounds rough in his throat. He doesn’t want to say it, he has sworn himself never to speak of it again, but here they are and history is repeating itself, and he _has_ to stop it, it has to be different this time, before it destroys them both.

“I do not want us to proceed like… like the last time.”

Jim hesitates, and Spock forces himself to let go of his hand. As soon as his fingers leave Jim’s, the stream of emotions ceases and he is alone in his mind again. Physically separated from him, Jim seems far more the captain – Spock’s superior officer, whom he is not supposed to harbor feelings for. With the loss of contact, the situation becomes impossible once more.  _We cannot do this, we must not…_

“I understand,” the captain’s – Jim’s – voice interrupts his thoughts. “The… last time was… shaped by very special circumstances… We didn’t even talk, actually, we never talked about it and I guess this was wrong.” He clears his throat “I guess this is largely my fault. I was a coward.” He avoids Spock’s eyes, stares at his feet. “I have been running away. I was… I guess, I was simply afraid of what I had gotten myself into.”

These are the words Spock has wanted to hear for many weeks. He nods and it is surprisingly easy for him to reply: “I felt the same. Afterwards, when the last traces of the  _plak tow_ had left my metabolism and I was able to think clearly again, I experienced guilt. I thought I had taken advantage of you, against your will. I…”

Jim looks up again, stares him straight into the eye, his own eyes are blazing. “Of course not!” He shakes his head for emphasis. “It was the heat of the moment, naturally but... but goddamn, Spock, we both could have  _died_ down there on Vulcan! And you thought I was dead and I thought I’d lost you, so neither of us could have expected rational thought and…”

“You do not need to explain yourself any further,” Spock says and his lips urge to curl up in a smile, a desire he is hardly able to suppress as a large wave of relief is rushing through him. But the bright smile that lights up Jim’s features in this very moment is enough for both of them. He reaches out and places his hands on Spock’s shoulders, ready to pull him into another kiss, but once again, Spock backs away.

“There is something I want to try, before we… proceed.”

He lifts his hand and lightly puts his fingers against Jim’s temple.

Jim’s eyes grow wide. “A mind meld?”

Spock nods. This time he wants to do it properly. If he must do this, if he must throw away what makes him Vulcan, let go of all control. He wants to share  _everything_ with Jim and the meld is the only way to show him what he cannot put into words.

“I trust you,” he simply says.

There is worry in Jim’s eyes. “I… I am not sure you’ll like everything you’ll see in there,” he says and tips a finger against his head.

Spock raises an eyebrow. “You mean the fact that you have slept with another man while on Thalassus?”

Jim is horrified. “You  _know_ ?”

Spock has known it from the very moment Jim touched his hand at the prison cell’s window. It has been so obvious he had virtually been able to _smell_ it on his body – and by now he has had more than twenty hours to come to terms with his jealously. In the end it’s only logical to forgive Jim for this one-time encounter that has filled Jim with so much guilt. Initially, Spock had still meant to be angry, but his anger evaporated the very moment Jim entered his cabin.

Thus, instead of an answer, he just lifts his other hand to Jim’s temple and asks softly “Are you ready?”

He can still feel Jim’s surprise, but nevertheless the captain nods and doesn’t press the subject any further. “I am,” he says with a firm voice.

And then they are one.

 

When Spock finally lowers his hands, it takes him longer than usual return into his own mind. It feels strange, being alone in his head again, after everything he has just experienced. But there’s no time to pursue this thought any further, because Jim is all over him, pulling him into his arms and kissing him hard.

“Thank you,” he whispers between kisses.

And as soon as they touch, the contact is reestablished. Not as intense as it was during the meld, but Spock is still able to feel part of Jim’s thoughts –all relief and gratitude - and somehow this makes it easier for him to let go and give in to the kiss. He closes his eyes and sinks into Jim’s emotions, allows himself to join the other man’s desire and he knows that he is ready now. When Jim’s hands slip under his uniform tunic for the second time, he doesn’t refuse him.

Jim’s fingers are cool on his skin as their caress Spock’s stomach, eventually wandering up towards his chest, stroking, exploring every inch of skin.

Finally he withdraws his hands and lightly tugs at the hem of Spock’s shirt, chuckling softly. “I think this has to go.”

Spock nods his agreement and pulls the garment over his head. It is only logical to proceed as quickly as possible.

Soon they have both discarded their tunics and Spock pauses to take a good look at Jim, who is now standing shirtless in front of him. Very tentatively Spock reaches out and trails his fingers over the smooth skin of Jim’s chest. The very contact of his fingers makes Jim shiver. Spock can physically sense his surprise.

But this wouldn’t be Jim Kirk if he let himself be startled for long, even in the face of Spock’s sudden initiative. He quickly grasps Spock’s shoulders and before Spock is able to react, he has pulled him with him as he sinks backwards onto the nearby bed. At first Jim’s body feels strangely cool and smooth against his own chest, but very soon, Spock gets used to the feeling and as Jim’s skin seems to warm up, absorbing the heat that radiates from his own body, he barely feels any difference. What he can clearly feel, however, is the hardness between Jim’s legs, and the answering pressure in his own groin.

Jim’s fingers are everywhere, stroking every inch of Spock’s back, running up and down his spine until they reach the edge of the uniform pants he is still wearing, while his mouth is busy trailing kisses along the length of Spock’s neck.

“I have waited so long for this,” he whispers against Spock’s ear, “I can’t believe it.”

Spock does not reply. He is far too focused on enjoying these new sensations to be able to form a coherent answer. Apparently, Jim doesn’t mind his lack of response, but continues to whisper various bits of nonsense during the short moments, in which his mouth is not occupied with licking and sucking at the delicate skin of Spock’s neck.

And then, his tongue touches the edge of his ear and now it is Spock who can’t suppress a moan as electric sparks seem to jolt through his body. He has to close his eyes as he feels the pleasure roaring through his veins and barely hears Jim chuckle as he indulges into his new-found task.

“Don’t stop…” Spock hardly recognizes the sound of his own voice.

He can hear the smile in Jim’s voice. “Don’t worry, it only gets better!”

“I’ll trust your judgment, Captain – for now,” Spock says dryly and awkwardly rolls to the side to allow Jim for a change of positions. Immediately after they are settled lying next to each other Jim starts to fumble with the fastenings of Spock’s trousers.

“Let’s get these things off you,” he whispers and is already pulling them down Spock’s legs, together with the underwear. Only one hour ago, Spock could not have imagined doing anything like this, but now he is lifting his hips to give his captain better access and only moments later he is lying naked on his back, blushing as he stares down at his obvious erection.

He turns his head to look at Jim, who is glancing downwards with fascination. Of course. Although Vulcan anatomy differs only slightly from humans, there are several distinctions that must appear strange to human eyes unfamiliar with its details. And of course, Jim didn’t have much time to stare during the rushed frenzy of their previous encounter.

Now he is slowly lowering his hand and softly strokes Spock’s erection. The touch is enough to make Spock moan quietly, wishing for more.

Jim smiles and closes his fingers around the shaft, moving his hand up and down. Slowly at first, but when Spock bucks up and groans, louder this time, because oh, this feels good, Jim increases speed and quickly dissolves Spock’s last remaining bit of control.

“Mmm, I like to hear you,” Jim whispers when a particularly desperate gasp escapes Spock’s lips. “Let’s see if we can make you beg…”

This is when he shifts his position, bends down and wraps his lips around Spock’s erection.

His mouth is warm and wet and he is doing  _things_ with his tongue. Spock’s eyes fall shut, he throws his head back and can barely keep himself from screaming.

 _Oh… oh Jim!_

Red and black stars and a dozen suns are dancing before his closed eyelids. There is barely a hint of Vulcan restraint left, neither in his body nor in his mind as that wicked human mouth manipulates him into giving in completely, letting himself go, erasing all thoughts, reducing him into a quivering, bucking, moaning mess, who is feeling, feeling… feeling…

He is close. He can feel the tension building up in his groin, close to bursting as Jim is pressing down on him, engulfing him completely in tight pulsating human wetness, swallowing him whole in a move Spock would have thought impossible for the human throat to perform.

But release is denied to him; Jim backs away, his lips swollen and his face flushed as he is coughing, apparently not completely indifferent to the strain of taking in Spock’s length. Spock immediately forgets about his own desire. Worrying that the task might have been too much for Jim, he is already opening his mouth to ask, but Jim, who seems to have noticed Spock’s concern, just smiles and shakes his head.

“I’m fine,” he says, “just had to catch my breath.” He quickly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and looks down on Spock again. “Also, we’re not done yet. I have other plans for you.”

It is only now that Spock notices that Jim is still half-dressed.

“Excuse me, I have been selfish, I…” But Jim shuts him up with a long kiss. Spock can taste a slight aroma of himself on Jim’s tongue, which is strange, but not unappealing. Eventually Jim pulls back and pauses for a moment to look Spock in the eye. His eyes are dark with desire and he is breathing heavily.

“I want you to take me, Spock,” he says.

Spock hasn’t thought about the … logistics until now. Jim had taken the passive part last time and apparently enjoyed it, but Spock had not necessarily assumed that he would do it again today. However, the fact that he is offering himself to him now, this time in full control of his senses and with apparent eagerness, just adds another layer to Spock’s already unbearable arousal.

Unable to answer, he simply gives Jim a breathless nod and then helps him to remove his remaining clothes, his fingers shaking as he fumbles with the belt, but soon enough the offending garment slips to the floor and he is finally able to appreciate Jim’s naked body.

But there is not much time for contemplation, Jim is so far gone, he is not even able to indulge in his usual narcissism.

“Wait a second,” he murmurs and frantically starts to rummage in the pocket of his just discarded pants. “Ah, here it is!” He throws a small bottle towards Spock, before he positions himself on his hands and knees on the bed. Spock notices that his legs are trembling slightly.

For a short moment, Spock feels strangely helpless, as he stares first at the glorious naked body of his captain on the bed, all smooth golden skin and aching desire, and then at the mundane bottle in his hand.

“What are you waiting for?” Jim turns his head and looks above his shoulder. “It’s lube, Spock. I guess you know what to do with it, it’ll make things easier. Laws of physics, you know?”

“Of course I do,” Spock grumbles, slightly embarrassed as he unscrews the bottle. Jim chuckles, but his laughter is quickly replaced by a moan, as Spock slips the first lubricated finger into him.

“Oh yes, _Spock_ , oh…”

Somewhere in the back of his mind Spock dearly hopes for his quarter’s walls to be soundproofed, he wouldn’t have imagined his captain to be  _that_ vocal. But as he slips the second finger into Jim’s body and hears the high-keened whimper Jim is producing somewhere in the back of his throat while he is literally  _begging_ for more, he decides that he couldn’t care less. All he wants is to bury himself in that tight human body that is writhing in front of him.

“Another finger, Spock, give me… ooooh…” Jim’s words dissolve into desperate gasps and moans as Spock inserts the third finger, now just as impatient as Jim himself.

He slowly pushes forwards and backwards a few times, careful not to strain the muscle too much, before he pulls out and proceed to slicking his own erection with the remaining lubricant.

Jim spreads his legs wider and instead of burying his head into the pillow as he has done before, he is now once again looking over his shoulder, twisting his neck in the attempt to establish eye contact.

“I need you inside me.” His voice is hoarse and barely audible. “ _Now!_ ”

This is all Spock needs. He grabs Jim’s hips forces his legs further apart and finally pushes inside. He barely hears Jim’s scream, halfway muffled by the pillows, as he closes his eyes, overwhelmed by the sensation of the human body surrounding him.

For a while he remains still and just savors the feeling.  _He is mine. I am his. We are one._ The telepathic contact is strengthening, he can feel Jim’s desire mixing with his own, creating a sensation, a burning maelstrom of lust, almost unbearable.

“Move!” Jim’s voice penetrates the red mist filling his mind. “ _Please_!”

And Spock starts moving, pushing in and pulling out. Slowly at first, enjoying every tiny bit of the friction, together with the movement of Jim’s body, the tanned skin under his fingers, the sight of the broad shoulders and smooth back in front of him, the muscular thighs against his legs – but when Jim begs “Harder!” he is only too willing to obey his command and eventually he gives in, completely abandoning the last bit of reason, letting himself go, drowning within the sea of burning flames.

And then he reaches out and his fingers hold on to Jim’s head, searching their way through his sweaty bronze-colored hair until he finds the meld points – and then they are one again, both succumbing to the movements, the clash of flesh on flesh, the fire, the tight red-blooded body, the desire, the strain and pull of muscles, flesh and bone and blood and heat and humanness, and the feeling when he changes the angle and Jim cries out loud, bucking against him and Spock is him and feels himself  _inside_ and Jim is him and they are but one body writhing and pushing and moaning and ooh, he feels the push right against that spot on his inside and  _oooh_ , he slams in right to the pubic bone and hands are pressing down on his hips with Vulcan strength and golden skin is slick with sweat under his pale fingers and he doesn’t know where Jim starts and Spock end and where Spock starts and Jim ends and they are one, one  _one_ … And then the world explodes before his eyes.

He can’t distinguish his own orgasm from Jim’s, but that doesn’t matter, because the fire is rushing through his body and he throws back his head, close to screaming as he is finally,  _finally_ coming and everything goes red and black in front of his eyes and for a second every single thought is erased from his brain and only white heat remains.

The meld breaks and Spock is sinking down on Jim’s body, it takes him a long time, until he is able to move or to form a coherent thought. Finally, when he realizes how uncomfortable the position must be for Jim, he rolls down and with already half-closed eyes, he stretches out an arm and wraps it around Jim’s waist. He falls asleep within seconds.

When he opens his eyes again, the first thing he sees is Jim’s smiling face.

“I think I’ve never watched you sleep before,” he says.

It takes Spock a while to reconstruct the circumstances of his situation. He rubs his eyes and takes a quick look around. Jim is still naked and is lying next to him in his rumpled bed. The air smells faintly of sex and their clothes are scattered throughout the room.

“You’ve slept for two hours,” Jim says, “it’s still the middle of delta shift we’re not due to appear on the bridge for five hours.”

Spock nods “That is good to hear.” He realizes that Jim has just placed a hand on his shoulder and is lightly massaging the base of his neck. The feeling is pleasant, but nevertheless, Spock’s first impulse is to push his hand away. But then he remembers what happened just a few hours ago and relaxes into the caress.

“Just lie still,” Jim murmurs and shifts into a more comfortable position with his chest against Spock’s back. “We have plenty of time,” he says, his breath warm against Spock’s ear. “We could take a shower and then…”

Spock barely listens to the rest of his sentence; he is still trying to organize his thoughts. Finally, he sighs and prepares himself to face the concrete implications of their… situation.

“What do you suggest we should do next?” he says.

He can feel Jim’s smile against his skin. “Well, as I already said, I think we should take a nice long shower…”

“No, I meant, what are we supposed to do …about us? And how should be proceed with Thalassus III? I am afraid we are not yet done with the planet and its inhabitants.” He turns around to face Jim directly. “You do realize that we left our phasers and two communicators in La Città? It is only a matter of time, before the Liberator…”

“And there I was, thinking we were able to relax for just a bit,” Jim sighs and stretches his arms. But his face grows serious within seconds. “I’ve been thinking about it, while you were asleep,” he says. “And I think there’s no way around returning to the city. Obviously it’ll require a bigger landing party and modified communicators, but we _need_ to get those devices back, we can’t allow for Dionysus and the inhabitants of La Città to figure out how they work.”

“This will interfere with the Prime Directive, I understand,” says Spock.

Jim sighs. “It’s not that I’m very keen on returning to this place,” he says, “and I’m sure you don’t feel the biggest desire to face Dionysus again, either.”

Spock voice becomes cool. “I do not particularly wish to ever hear this name again.” Jim casts him a weak smile “I’ll do my best,” he says and resumes his caressing of Spock’s shoulder. “You can trust me, you won’t have to worry about … him. But you do see the need to go down there again and retrieve the phasers, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Well, then I guess the story isn’t over yet.”

“I don’t think so, Captain.”

“ _Jim!”_

“One step at a time… Jim.”


End file.
